A Man and a Girl
by Farky-fark and the Munky Bunch
Summary: The new home of any and all of my Arya/Jaqen one-shot ideas, in any context that comes to mind. Open for requests.
1. Runaway

**A/N:** Right on the heels of my new SanSan one-shot collection, here comes one for Arya and Jaqen. This first chapter is a modern AU, and everything is pretty easy to understand. Nothing too complex. Although, there is a brief reference to whatever the heck happened with Gendry and Melisandre in whichever season of Game of Thrones. I will take requests, by review or PM if you feel so inclined.

 **Disclaimer:** A Song of Ice and Fire and its characters belong to George R. R. Martin, not me, unfortunately.

* * *

"Why couldn't you just be more like your sister?"

And that's what did it. Two minutes after that exasperated question, spoken in anger, and she was out the door, skipping down the front steps as it slammed shut behind her.

"Arya! Arya Lyanna Stark, you get back here!"

She knew what she would see if she turned back: a very flustered Catelyn Stark in the entryway, hands on her hips and lips pursed in disappointment.

"We are not done with this conversation."

 _Oh, yes we are. So incredibly done._

Tossing a raised middle finger over her shoulder and smirking at her mother's scandalized gasp, Arya turned the bend, disappearing from sight.

Hopefully, she would have at least a twenty-four hour head start. Assuming that Catelyn would think that she'd come back home by then as she always had before. This time though, she didn't have Gendry to keep her tethered to this shitty town, so she had no plans to come back. This time, there wasn't anybody to talk her down, so she would just keep walking. Maybe, if she was lucky, she could get a ride somewhere far away. Maybe the coast. Warm weather sounded pretty inviting right about now.

Digging a half-burnt cigarette from the pocket of her shorts, she lit it with a flick of her thumb and slid it between her lips, inhaling the comforting tang of cheap tobacco before blowing it out in a heavy sigh. Of course, it was the cigarettes that had started this whole damned mess. That and the alcohol. And when Robb had come home early to find her sprawled across the couch with Gendry's head between her thighs.

Hence, 'why couldn't you be more like your sister?'. Because somehow, Catelyn was ignorant about how Sansa spent her evenings at Sandor's apartment, yet knew every little detail about her younger daughter's less-than-stellar personal life, and hadn't let up any even after she had caught Gendry with some older, busty redhead and dumped his sorry ass. If anything, Mother Stark had been even more watchful lately, as if she thought Arya would go drown herself in alcohol to cope with the break up. Bastard wasn't even worth wallowing over.

By the time she had forcefully derailed her train of thought, she was already a good six blocks away from the large Stark mansion and allowed herself to slow from a light jog to a steady walk. Thankfully, the weather wasn't as cold as it had been lately, and she wasn't uncomfortable in her light leather jacket and shorts. Come nightfall though, the temperature wouldn't be as friendly.

God, she couldn't believe her mother had actually said that. Surely, by now, Catelyn had her foot stuck so far in her mouth it was practically coming out her ass, but still, she had said it. And at least for that one second, she had meant it.

If only that bastard who had run the red light had paid attention, she would've had Ned to keep her grounded, and Arya would've had the father and older brother who had always understood her when no one else did. Now, since Jon had left for the even farther north, she only had her overbearing mother, perfect, prissy sister, and two brothers who were still too young to understand why she spent so much time away from her family.

The sound of an approaching car caught her attention and she quickly dropped her cigarette, grinding it beneath the toe of her boot in case it was a policeman on her tail. Instead, it was an innocuous Ford compact; definitely not from her neighborhood. It didn't slow as it drove past her, but she casually stuck up a thumb as it went by and she heard the squeal of brakes as it slowed to a stop beside the road a few yards ahead.

A few seconds later, she was beside it again and she cocked an eyebrow at the tinted window that met her gaze. Slowly, it rolled down, and she shoved her hands in her pockets. "You got any room?"

The driver appraised her for a moment from behind his sunglasses then nodded and leaned across the passenger seat to open the door closest to her. "Sure."

He took off again as soon as she had the door closed behind her and a few minutes passed in silence before Arya cleared her throat and stuck out a hand.

"Arya Stark."

The driver turned and a smirk tugged at the corner of his lips as he raised an eyebrow. "Do you have a habit of accepting rides from strangers, Arya Stark?"

She ignored him and dropped her hand back into her lap. "What's your name?"

He laughed quietly, turning his gaze back to the road. "Jaqen H'ghar."

Arya nodded and crossed her arms over her chest. "Now we're not strangers."

He laughed again and shook his head in amusement. "Very well."

They lapsed into silence again, and Arya sighed heavily, watching the scenery through the window as they drove toward the highway.

"Where are we going?"

Jaqen shrugged, absently flexing his fingers where they rested against the gear shift. "I haven't decided yet."

"You don't have anywhere you need to be?"

His eyes shifted to meet her gaze. "I could ask the same question."

At that, Arya looked away again, chewing on her bottom lip and toying with a string on her cutoff shorts. "But I asked it first."

He smirked again. "Then no. I don't have anywhere I need to be. I'm between jobs at the moment."

"What kind of jobs?"

"You ask a lot of questions, Arya Stark," he countered, turning off the road that led into her neighborhood and merging onto the highway.

Scowling at his blatant evasion, she crossed her arms more tightly and settled deeper into her seat. "Just trying to make conversation." Her scowl deepened when he chuckled in amusement and she pulled another cigarette out of one of her jacket pockets, lighting up and cracking the window so she could tap her ashes onto the road.

"Aren't you a little young to be smoking?"

Arya laughed bitterly. "Yes. Too young for smoking, and drinking, and fucking, but plenty old enough to be a complete disappointment."

Jaqen's gaze shifted from the road at her outburst and he cocked an eyebrow. "So what, am I harboring a fugitive?"

This time, her laugh was genuine and she sighed heavily before shaking her head and curling her legs up onto the seat. "No. Not a fugitive. Just a runaway."

"Mm. A girl after my own heart."

Arya looked over at him, curiosity piqued. "What are you running from?"

He shrugged. "Nothing. Everything. Still trying to find a place where I belong, if there is one." A companionable silence fell between them as they each lost themselves in their own thoughts, but he broke it again when the road split before them. "So, Arya Stark. Where to?"

She looked both ways, then turned to her new companion with a wide and carefree grin. "East."


	2. She's So Mean

**A/N:** This one's another modern AU. And...it just sort of ended up like this, but...there are no names used. Just pronouns. Regardless, this _is_ about Arya and Jaqen, because I wrote it, and I say it is. The chapter title is taken from the Matchbox 20 song that inspired this. Yay Rob Thomas! Thank you to **GrowlingPeanut** , **Killthebeast** , and **Violet** for reviewing 'Runaway', and to everyone who took the time to follow or favorite this story. Your support is greatly appreciated.

 **Disclaimer:** A Song of Ice and Fire and its characters all belong to George R. R. Martin.

 **Rating:** M for strong language and suggestive content.

* * *

He didn't know why he let her do it: walk all over him like she fucking owned him. She was a bitch; no way around it. But with her wicked sense of humor, and those leather pants that perfectly hugged the curve of her ass, and the look in her eye that told him she wasn't as innocent as she sometimes pretended to be, she was irresistible. And he couldn't get enough.

It had started innocently enough. She was a student at the college nearby, and she answered his ad in the paper for a roommate. What sort of a nineteen-year-old read the fucking newspaper anymore anyway? And there she was. Standing on his doorstep in her Metallica tank top and cutoff shorts, a cheeky grin on her face and a single suitcase in the hand that wasn't resting on her hip.

For the most part, she had left him alone at first. She would offer a good morning when he walked into the kitchen for his cup of coffee: 12 ounces, strong, and black; didn't seem to mind that he never responded.

Their relationship was professional. Businesslike. She might as well have been one of the many nameless, faceless secretaries at the plastic surgery office where he worked. She slept in his spare room, ate the groceries that she bought every other week, used his shower when he wasn't in it, and paid him the agreed upon rent. It was simple; predictable; ideal.

And then, the girl had to go and make things difficult. It was a Sunday morning a few months after she had moved in, one of the few days that they were both in the house together for more than half an hour at a time. He had overslept, something that was rare for him, and after he was dressed, he opened his bedroom door to see her standing before him in the hallway. Completely fucking naked.

Her large grey eyes blinked in mock surprise and a smirk tugged at the corner of her lips. When he continued to stand dumbfounded in the doorway of his room, she turned to face him fully, moving her hands to her hips and giving him an innocent smile.

"I'm sorry. I forgot to do the laundry when I got home last night. We're out of towels." And with that, she sauntered— _sauntered_ —toward the small laundry room, her perfect ass still glistening with tiny beads of water. He almost hoped that she had been able to hear the sounds of his release as he took himself in his hand in the shower, the smell of her shampoo still clinging to the porcelain.

After that, he made a point to avoid her. His employer trusted and valued him enough to let his schedule remain flexible, so he simply hid behind the safety of his bedroom door until he heard her leave for her morning classes and made sure that he was back to their apartment before she returned. It worked, for the most part.

Perhaps it was just paranoia, but he could've sworn that with each day that he spent avoiding her, she tried harder to ensure that he couldn't. First, she took her class schedule down from the fridge; thankfully, he had memorized it long before. A few days later, she inexplicably returned back to the apartment when she should have been at her evening chemistry lab. That time, he had barely managed to gather his things from the kitchen table and retreat into his office before she had gotten the front door unlocked.

When he closed his eyes at night, he was haunted by the image of her standing there before him, completely exposed to his gaze. He had never before found anyone so infuriating; or so irresistible. His only consolation was the knowledge that they had agreed to revisit the terms of her rent at the end of her first semester. She would be back out on the street before she could even set down her pen.

A few weeks before she was due to take her finals, she stayed out late one Friday night, and he refused to let himself worry when she didn't return to the apartment by her curfew. As he had both expected and feared, she came staggering through the front door while he was on his way to work the next morning, wearing the same short dress that she had worn out the previous evening. He tried to hide his scowl at the thought of her spending the night with another man, but as always, she saw right through him, stopping in the doorway of her room to glance over her shoulder and give him a coy smile and a wink as he stormed out of the apartment.

It had to stop. He couldn't sleep anymore, couldn't even think without seeing _her_.

Gathering his resolve, he threw his blankets off one night, not even bothering to get dressed before slamming open the door and marching down the hall to her room. She was waiting in the doorway when he got there, an almost triumphant smirk on her lips. Before he could speak his mind, she stepped forward, pressing her small frame against his and slanting her mouth over his. He couldn't even think to respond before she pulled away, a feral grin on her face. By the time she had closed the door between them, he couldn't even remember what it was that he had wanted to say.

Neither of them spoke of the kiss after the fact, though he could practically sense how self-satisfied she was whenever she cast him a glance from beneath her eyelashes. Needless to say, it hadn't helped his problem in the slightest.

Her finals kept her on campus for much of the last few weeks of their contract, and for that he was grateful; or so he told himself. He kept himself busy with work, and fewer and fewer of his nights were spent with her name on his lips before sleep finally took him.

It was a crisp, clear December morning that found them together again, sitting across from each other at the kitchen table, their agreed upon contract between them. All she had to do was give him a final payment, sign her name, and walk out. Her hand disappeared into the purse at her side and withdrew the money, sliding it across the table where he set it in a neat pile beside his elbow. Her eyes met his briefly before the hand departed again, this time returning with a pen. The cap was removed, and she scanned the document once more before poising to sign.

He wasn't sure exactly when he leaned forward, or when her lips parted to give his tongue the entry it desperately sought. By the time the pen clattered to the tile floor, it had been long forgotten.

He knew that he shouldn't let her do it: walk all over him like she fucking owned him. But he just couldn't help himself.


	3. Someone

**A/N:** Hello! Greetings from...my new, very own laptop! Woohoo! I can write so much more easily now! And as such, here you go. This is more of a drabble than a one-shot I guess, because it's pretty short, but I had the idea, and I just didn't feel like it needed to be any longer than it is. This one is in a canon setting (taking a break from modern, but just for now), but a few years after _A Dance With Dragons_. And of course, thank you to **TheRealTayler13** for reviewing 'She's so Mean'. Enjoy!

 **Disclaimer:** Everything belongs to George R. R. Martin.

 **Rating:** T for stuff.

* * *

Arya awoke to a slight shift in the usually stuffy air of her modest quarters, so it wasn't a surprise when she heard a deep, unfamiliar voice from the shadows. "Get up."

Silently, she rose from her pallet and faced the intruder, barely containing an exasperated sigh. This had been going on for almost a week now. Each night, she would awaken to find a strange face lurking in the darkened corner of her room. It was never someone she knew that took her through the silent halls of the House of Black and White to fight; to talk; to learn.

Until now. She wasn't sure if it was her years of training, or the undeniable connection that they had always seemed to share, but she knew before he even spoke that it was Jaqen H'ghar with her now. She could feel it.

The temple was eerily silent save for the gentle padding of her bare feet on the stone floor and the steady beating of her heart. How long had it been since she had last seen him? Too long. Other than that, she didn't know. It was easy to lose track of time when all your days were spent doing the same things over and over again. If she never had to see a mop for the rest of her life, she could die happy.

Of course, she wasn't who he remembered anymore. No longer was she the girl who he had first rescued from Harrenhal. She was a woman grown now, with a hint of the beauty that her elder sister was known for evident on her mischievous features.

Finally, they stopped, out by the Braavos docks which were surprisingly still, even for such an ungodly hour. When he turned, the light from the moon shone down on him and she was able to see him clearly for the first time since his appearance in her chambers.

This time the face he wore was older, with wrinkles about the deep brown eyes and thin, pursed lips. Even so, she knew it was him. His large calloused hands moved to rest on his hips and the deep voice spoke again.

"Who are you?"

She knew what her answer should be. She had said it so many times that a part of her was beginning to believe it. But this was Jaqen: her mentor, her savior, her friend. And so, she spoke the truth. "Arya Stark."

There was a split second of hesitation, a flicker of shock so brief she almost missed it, before he frowned. "Then you do not belong here. Arya Stark is a lady of Westeros, not a Faceless Man of Braavos."

Instead of offering a sharp and biting retort as he likely expected, she merely smirked and crossed her arms over her chest. "Arya Stark was never a lady."

She almost missed the smile that tugged at his lips. Almost.

"Who are you?" she countered.

One of his thick dark eyebrows rose and the strange eyes watched her closely. After a long moment, he replied. "No one."

Arya's grin grew feral. "Bullshit." His expression was hard to read, but she knew that she had caught him off guard, so she proceeded, stalking toward him and poking a finger into his chest. "I know _exactly_ who you are."

"Oh?"

She nodded. "You may not talk the same, or look the same, or even..." She leaned in and inhaled deeply, smirking when his eyes widened and letting her point go unsaid. "But I know you."

Finally, he let his guard down and returned her smirk. "A man is impressed. Even he doesn't truly know who he is."

Faced with the familiar blue eyes and enigmatic smile, Arya softened slightly and reached out to gently run her hand along his forearm. "Well, your name may not be Jaqen H'ghar, and this may not be your true face," her fingers left his arm to trace his cheekbone and his breath hitched slightly, making her heart skip a beat. She had forgotten how much she had missed him, and how much he had always meant to her. "But I know that whoever you are, you're the man who saved my life. You're the man who gave me a reason not to give up. You're the man who, no matter how hard you try to hide it, has always cared about me."

His eyes met hers, dark and unreadable, and his tongue darted out to wet his lips a moment before they pressed against hers in a kiss. They were softer than she had always imagined they would be, and she felt her stomach flip when he tugged her bottom lip between his teeth, gasping quietly.

When he pulled away, his forehead resting against hers, he smiled gently. "So then, Arya Stark, who am I?"

She returned the smile and leaned in again, her lips brushing against his as she shrugged and whispered her reply. "Someone."


	4. Don't

**A/N:** Sorry it's been a little while. I wanted to post this one since I started it forever ago (way before I ever posted this story) and I wanted to really put the time into making it good. And I'm happy with the final product. As much as I can be. This is based directly, and yet loosely, on Ed Sheeran's "Don't", and I wrote the narrative in sections based on the different verses, so I've included those before each of the respective sections of the story. And, that being said, it doesn't end happily, so I may write a follow-up later to soothe my Arya/Jaqen feels. Anyway, this is pretty different from the other three I've written, and I really hope that you like it. And thank you to **Lisa** for reviewing 'Someone'; so glad you guys are liking these two goofs.

 **Disclaimer:** Everything belongs to George R. R. Martin.

 **Rating:** M for sexual content and Arya's dirty mouth.

* * *

 _ **I met this girl late last year  
She said, "don't you worry if I disappear"  
I told her I'm not really looking for another mistake  
I called an old friend thinking that the trouble would wait  
But then I jump right in  
A week later returned  
I reckon she was only looking for a lover to burn  
But I gave her my time for two or three nights  
Then I put it on pause 'til the moment was right**_

* * *

"I'll have a double martini, please. With an extra olive."

There's an audible snort as the bartender nods vaguely and the man who had ordered the drink turns to look at the woman two seats over at the hotel bar with a raised eyebrow. "Is there something I can do for you?"

She shakes her head, pulls the cigarette from between her full red lips and blows out a stream of smoke before tilting her nose toward the ceiling with an air of mock superiority. "Double martini, please. With an extra olive," she says in a terrible mockery of the man's thick German accent, then snorts again. "Extra fucking olive. Give me a break."

Slightly offended, he nods his thanks to the bartender as his drink is delivered then turns to face the young woman. "Well what are you drinking?"

"A Tequila Sunrise."

His eyebrow rises again and he laughs loudly. "Tequila Sunrise? _'Tequila Sunrise'. Mein Gott_." His feigned mirth subsiding as suddenly as it had appeared, he gives her a pointed look then turns to his drink.

After a moment of silence, she speaks again. "Do you know who I am? It's dangerous to be so rude to me."

The foreign man shrugs. "Just putting an insolent girl in her place."

"That didn't answer my question."

He sighs and looks back toward her, voice dripping with sarcasm. "No. I don't know who you are. My most sincere apologies."

At that, she stamps out her cigarette in a nearby ashtray before moving to the empty stool beside him, colorful cocktail still in hand. "Arya Stark." When he doesn't respond, she raises her eyebrows. "Lead singer of The Faceless Men? We're a rock band. And a pretty fucking famous one at that."

"Congratulations," her companion responds dryly, sliding the extra olive from the toothpick in his martini and popping it between his parted lips. He doesn't pretend not to notice that her eyes hungrily follow the movement.

"We're here on tour for our newest album, The House of Black and White," she continues, a gleam of slightly arrogant pride in her grey eyes. "Don't you ever listen to the radio?"

He shrugs again. "Not much."

When he casts a glance in her direction, her lips are curved into a petulant pout and he chuckles. "I'm Jaqen H'ghar. No offense meant by not knowing you, my lovely girl. Pleased to have made your acquaintance."

She turns to him with a smile. "Jaqen H'ghar? The name suits you." He doesn't miss the once-over that she gives him as she says it, her lips curving into a blatantly appreciative smirk.

He finishes his drink and slides the empty glass toward the bartender. "Oh?"

"Mmhm..." She leans toward him, walking her fingers across the edge of the bar, and he catches the faint scent of her musky perfume. "It's mysterious...alluring...sensual..." The words slide from between her parted lips, charged with sexual energy, and she looks at him from beneath her eyelashes with a devilish grin.

"Don't you have groupies for this?" Jaqen asks, bluntly calling her out on her sudden interest in him as he glances toward the group of young men at the back of the hotel lobby that have been eying his companion at least since he'd arrived.

Arya shrugs and leans back again, tossing her head to move her dark bangs from her eyes. "They all have expectations. You're a stranger. That's more exciting."

"It'll get you into trouble someday."

"What?"

"Fucking strangers."

She grins wolfishly. "Who says we'll be fucking?"

There is no denying his body's reaction to the young woman's advances, so he takes the bait of her coy inquiry. "I do."

The elevator doors slide closed and Jaqen's fingers find the button for the fourth floor with ease before moving to the belt loops of Arya's high-waisted leather shorts. She allows herself to be pulled into him and her hands move to flatten against his chest as his lips meet the side of her throat. The young woman practically melts into him and she lets out a low moan, moving a hand to the back of his neck to pull his mouth down to hers.

Jaqen barely registers the ding of the elevator as the doors slide open and they stumble into the hallway, Arya's hands at his belt as he fumbles to find his room key. One of her small hands manages to find its way beneath the denim keeping her from her goal and Jaqen groans loudly, stopping to lean against the wall as his head falls back, chest heaving with the sudden difficult effort of breathing. Arya grins up at him, eyes sparkling dangerously and he grabs her wrist to stop the movements of her hand before pushing his key card into the reader and shoving open the door to his hotel room.

As soon as the door closes behind them, she's pressed against it, Jaqen's mouth hot and demanding against her own. Her hands fall to the hem of his shirt and it's on the floor before he even realizes that she's tugged it off. His jeans follow soon after and he steps out of them as Arya pulls her tight maroon crop top off over her head, revealing the lacy red bra beneath.

Jaqen's eyes darken at the sight before him and he slams her back against the door again, grinding his hips mercilessly against hers as her legs move to wrap around his waist. Her hands tangle in his long red and white hair and she whines at the teasing friction of his erection against her still leather- and lace-clad core. "Jaqen...I...I want..." She moans loudly, the words dying on her lips.

"Want what?" He growls, groping roughly at her partially exposed breasts.

"Fuck me," she replies, her hand flailing for something to gain purchase on.

Obeying her request, Jaqen unfastens her shorts and lets them fall to the floor as he frees himself from his boxer briefs and pushes her panties aside, pushing swiftly into her welcoming heat. Arya's swollen lips fall open in a silent cry as Jaqen sets a merciless rhythm with his hips, pounding into her as she squirms and moans and digs her nails deep into his back, drawing blood.

It isn't long before she feels him tense slightly and she whines at the thought of losing the feel of him moving inside her. As though anticipating her disappointment, one of Jaqen's hands falls between them and she lets out a strangled gasp as his deft fingers find the spot between her thighs that brings her quickly to completion.

"Oh, fuck!" She's shaking and moaning with the force of her orgasm as he finishes with a few more jerky thrusts, and much to her surprise, he's pressing an almost gentle kiss to her sweaty forehead as she returns from her high.

Hastily, she stands on her own and he moves away to give her room, watching her intently as she bends down and retrieves her clothing. "Well, that was fun," she says, yanking up her shorts and pulling her top back on over her tousled hair. "I'm in room 128. Come by tomorrow night. I'll leave the door open."

And with that, she's gone.

* * *

 _ **I went away for months until our paths crossed again  
She told me "I was never looking for a friend"  
Maybe you could swing by my room around ten  
Baby, bring a lemon and a bottle of gin  
We'll be in between the sheets till the late AM  
Baby, if you wanted me then you should've just said  
She's singing  
Ah lahmlahlah**_

* * *

It's nearly three months before he sees Arya Stark again, and even then, it isn't in person. He's in New York for business and it's when he's walking down one of the busy sidewalks that he sees her on the side of a bus, a sly smirk on her heavily painted lips and the tour dates of The Faceless Men printed across her chest.

He isn't exactly sure how or why he ends up at the concert hall two nights later, watching from one of the private boxes as she stalks across the stage, her surprisingly melodic voice blending with the heavy bass and nearly frantic drumming of the stocky brunette and scrawny blond behind her. She's hypnotizing, and he can't help but wonder why she had chosen him.

It's well past midnight when the last few attendees trickle out into the night, and Jaqen is considering joining them when she sneaks up behind him.

"I thought I saw you out there. You better be glad that my head of security is too busy screwing my sister in his car right now to be prowling around here. He probably wouldn't take kindly to a strange foreign man lurking in the shadows backstage."

She has a genuine smile on her lips when she comes to stand in front of him, not one of the coy smirks that seem to be more common. It makes her look beautiful for once, rather than sexy and more than a little promiscuous.

"What are you doing here?"

He shrugs. "I was in town for business and my client happened to have a ticket that he found he wouldn't be needing any longer."

Her smile widens and she jerks her head toward the area further backstage. "Come on. My dressing room's this way."

They aren't interrupted on their way there, and it isn't until they're safely within Arya's dressing room that her demeanor changes. Without warning, she grabs his tie in hand and yanks him down to meet her lips, kissing him roughly and sucking his tongue between her lips.

He grunts in surprise, his hands finding purchase on the bare skin of her waist, almost feverish in its overwhelming heat.

"You're far too overdressed," she mumbles against his mouth, throwing his tie on the ground and shoving his suit jacket off of his shoulders. "Who the fuck wears a full suit to a rock concert anyway?" He can hear the teasing in her voice and he answers her with an offended snort.

"I told you I was on business."

She laughs and clucks her tongue at him as she swiftly unbuttons his crisp white dress shirt. "Hasn't anyone ever told you not to mix business with pleasure?" Her gaze rises to meet his, grey eyes dark beneath her lashes.

Giving a noncommittal hum of agreement, he lifts her up to sit on the nearby counter, fumbling with his trousers as she wraps her legs around his hips, revealing with a smirk what lies beneath her leather skirt; or rather, what doesn't.

He lasts a little longer this time around, and it's his turn to leave her behind, flushed and breathless as she leans against the mirror behind her.

When he gets to the door, she calls out after him. "Where are you going?"

He turns, one eyebrow quirked high. "Liquor store. I'm at the Titan Hotel, a few blocks from here, room 014. If you bring the lemon, I'll bring the gin."

He can still hear her laughter as he shoves his way out into the parking lot.

* * *

 _ **For a couple weeks  
I only want to see her  
We drink away the days with a take-away pizza  
Before a text message was the only way to reach her  
Now she's staying at my place and loves the way I treat her  
Singing out Aretha  
All over the track like a feature  
And never wants to sleep, I guess that I don't want to either**_

* * *

"Pizza delivery!"

He can't help but grin as he pushes himself up from the couch and walks to the door. She's standing outside in jeans and a tank top for their newest album, _The House of Black and White_ , with a Pizza Hut baseball cap over her dark hair and a shit-eating grin on her face.

He cocks an eyebrow. "Nice hat."

Pushing past him, she laughs and takes it off, tossing it onto his bed and shaking out her hair. "The kid was a huge fan, so he gave it to me when I signed the five dollar bill I gave him. You should've seen the look on his face." She laughs again, plopping down by the hat and tucking her feet up under herself. "I thought he was gonna pass out."

Jaqen just rolls his eyes at her amusement and closes the door to his hotel room before moving to join her.

"Veggie lover's for you..." she pushes the offending pizza toward him, making a face to display her opinion on vegetables and opening her own box with a satisfied grin. "And meat lover's for me!" She takes a bite and moans in delight, smirking at him when she shifts slightly at the sound.

He's stayed in New York for three weeks now, spending all but her time on stage with the spunky young rock star. After earning the grudging respect of her bodyguard, and brother-in-law, Sandor Clegane, he was given free reign of the backstage area, and it hasn't been uncommon for Arya to release her post-show adrenaline on her German lover in her dressing room, on the tour bus, or in his hotel room. Regardless, she never stays the night, always giving some excuse or another for leaving him before she can fall asleep in his arms.

This is their last night together for the foreseeable future, as the band is moving their tour to the other side of the country. While she's excited at the prospect of the California sun, he isn't sure if he's ready to let her go yet. After the first few times, he stopped thinking of it as just fucking, but he's afraid that if he admits to his growing feelings, she'll run. And so, he stays silent.

"Hey, earth to Jaqen!" She's snapping her slender and talented fingers in front of his face when he regains his focus. "You're letting your nasty pizza get cold, babe. And you know I won't eat it if you don't."

He doesn't miss how easily the word slips from her lips, no matter how adamant her feelings against commitment might be. It's all he needs to snap his resolve, and he leans in to kiss her, his heart clenching at the familiar sensation of her lips molding perfectly to his.

 _It's only our last night for now_ , he tells himself as he moves inside her, gently at first, and then with a force that surprises them both. By the time he's through, her pale skin is purple with the marks of his affection and he can't help but wonder if despite all his efforts, this dream is coming to an end.

* * *

 _ **But maybe we'll go together and just figure it out  
I'd rather put on a film with you and sit on the couch  
But we should get on a plane  
Or we'll be missing it now**_

* * *

He drives with her to the airport, eyes planted firmly on the road as she sings along to one of her own songs on the radio. As much as he wants to spend these last few minutes with her, he knows that it won't make saying goodbye any easier.

She flirts and teases her way through security, and as he glares at the young TSA officer that indulges her, he wonders if he won't be returning to New York on business someday soon. With a flippant "don't be so jealous, Jack," she moves through the metal detectors, and his gaze is tethered to the sway of her hips as she leads the way to the gate.

As usual, she's running as late as possible without truly being late, so they only have a few minutes before boarding once they get there. Her two bandmates, Gendry and Lommy, are trailing behind as the latter talks animatedly about their newest song idea, and her older sister Sansa is straightening Sandor's tie, ever the dutiful wife, giving Arya and Jaqen a brief moment of semi-privacy.

She turns to him with a grin, placing a hand on his chest and a kiss on his cheek. "I guess this is goodbye then, hm?"

He can't find it in himself to return the smile, merely nodding mutely.

"Well," she lowers her voice in mockery of the large man beside them, sticking out a hand stiffly in his direction. "It's been real."

Jaqen barely registers Sandor's grumbled "I do _not_ sound like that," as he yanks Arya to him and claims her mouth, not the least bit concerned with all the people around them.

When he pulls away, there's an uncertainty and vulnerability in her eyes that soothes his battered emotions, and as she's walking out to the plane, she looks over her shoulder at him, not quite as willing to say goodbye as she had thought.

* * *

 _ **[Knock knock knock] on my hotel door  
I don't even know if she knows what for  
She was crying on my shoulder  
I already told ya  
Trust and respect is what we do this for**_

* * *

Jaqen is just coming out of the shower when he hears the knock on his door. Not expecting one, he doesn't answer, just milling around the fancy hotel bathroom, wrapping a towel around his hips and combing through his long hair.

When the knock comes again, more frantic this time, he frowns and abandons the comb, moving to open the door. He's only just removed the bolt when the door flies open and a familiar petite brunette launches herself into his arms. Since he's expecting to be passionately ravished by the young woman, the tears in her eyes surprise him and he barely manages to keep himself steady as he wraps a comforting arm around her.

"Arya? What are you doing here?"

He had texted her the address of his Los Angeles hotel when he made it to the city, but her lack of response had convinced him that she wouldn't be visiting during their time in the city together.

"I didn't know where else to go," she sobs, burying her face in his shoulder.

Just as confused, he absently strokes her hair before gently pulling away and guiding her towards the bed before returning to close the door and hastily pulling on a pair of shorts.

"Is everything okay?"

Raising her eyes to his, she bites her lip to stifle a sob and shakes her head. "I'm just scared, and I don't know who to go to, and I hope I'm not bothering you and—"

Jaqen smiles gently and sits down beside her, pressing a soothing kiss to her forehead. "Shh...just talk to me, lovely girl...what's wrong?"

"It's Sansa," she manages to get out. "She was out shopping, and I was supposed to have gone with her, but I bailed to go to the bar with Gendry and Lommy, and while she was out, she ran into her ex-boyfriend Joffrey, and the asshole beat her within an inch of her life." Her breathing is shaky and her expression is pained when she continues. "She and Sandor just found out that she's pregnant with their first, and now...the doctors are saying that the baby might not make it." Unable to maintain her composure, she breaks down in tears and clutches him tightly.

After a few minutes, when she's able to speak again, she looks up at him, her pain and vulnerability evident in her eyes. "Thank you for being here for me." It's almost a whisper, but he hears it nonetheless and wraps his arms around her.

"Always."

* * *

 _ **I never intended to be next  
But you didn't need to take him to bed that's all  
And I never saw him as a threat  
Until you disappeared with him to have sex of course  
It's not like we were both on tour  
We were staying on the same fucking hotel floor  
And I wasn't looking for a promise or commitment  
But it was never just fun and I thought you were different  
This is not the way you realize what you wanted  
It's a bit too much too late if I'm honest  
All this time God knows I'm singing  
Ah lahmlahlah**_

* * *

It's almost a year since their first meeting that he can find time away from work again. In their months apart, The Faceless Men have gone across the pond for a world tour, and Sansa Clegane has given birth to a healthy, albeit squalling dark-haired little girl. Without Arya, Jaqen's life hasn't been anything exciting, and it's with a mixture of relief and anticipation that he confirms his plane ticket for Munich. Arya isn't expecting him, but he doesn't want to pass up the chance to see her again; and in his homeland no less.

So there he is, standing in the lobby of her hotel. Thankfully, her growing fame and his friendship with her bodyguard make her easy to find, and he flashes the hostess at the front desk a charming smile before moving to the elevator.

When he reaches her room, his knocking goes unanswered, and he's headed back to the elevator in defeat when he hears her voice.

"God, fuck!" Her voice and tendency toward crude language stops him and he looks toward the door between him and his lover. It was open a crack, likely due to carelessness more than anything, and for once he finds that he doesn't mind her lack of attention. Why not extend the element of surprise for as long possible?

Quietly, he opens the door and enters the room, surprised by its cleanliness. Usually, she wasn't this neat. Not when she was staying with him anyway.

His feet carried him around the corner to the main section of the room and his heart stopped. There, sprawled across the bed was his beautiful Arya, skin shining with sweat and legs spread wide to accommodate the stocky man between them.

As soon as he stops, her eyes fly open, and she meets his gaze, a flush of shame adding to the ruddy tint of her trembling limbs. "Stop," she manages to choke out. "Gendry, stop."

At the sound of his name, her guitarist raises his head and at least has the decency to blush when he glances over his shoulder and sees the older man. Scrambling to his feet, he grabs his shirt off of the floor and awkwardly moves past Jaqen, very much aware of his caustic glare.

"I'll uh—I'll just be in your room, 'kay?"

When Arya nods, he all but runs out, leaving the two of them alone.

Silently, she props herself up on her elbows and looks at him, her emotional turmoil written plainly on her features.

After a moment, he cocks an eyebrow. "Gendry?"

That breaks her from her silence and she sits up, crossing her arms over her chest. "Listen, Jaqen, I didn't mean for this to happen. I just...we went out, and we both got a little tipsy, and I was missing you and..." She looked at him desperately, her grey eyes glistening with tears. "It just happened. We didn't really do anything."

At that, his expression darkens and he takes a step toward her. "You call that not doing anything?" He can't get the picture of her open and willing beneath another man's lips from his mind. His chest constricts painfully and he shakes his head in disgust. "You don't need to explain yourself, Arya. I've seen the way he looks at you. This has been a long time coming. I'm just sorry I ever got between you."

Having spoken his mind, he turns on his heel and prepares to flee, unwilling to face the lump that's rising in his throat.

He can feel her shift toward him, hear the sound her hand makes as it reaches toward him before falling limply to the mattress. "No, Jaqen, wait—"

He holds up a hand to stop her and shakes his head again, ignoring the tear that escapes his lashes and tumbles down his cheek. "Don't."

* * *

 _ **Don't fuck with my love  
That heart is so cold  
All over my own  
I don't wanna know that babe  
Ah lahmlahlah  
Don't fuck with my love  
I told her she knows  
Take aim and reload  
I don't wanna know that babe  
Ah lahmlahlah**_


	5. Past and Present

**A/N:** Okay, so one, sorry for the wait, I had surgery and the recovery time was longer than I had anticipated. Two, my boyfriend has finally started reading _Game of Thrones_ so that's _super_ exciting, and I finally have someone to fangirl with. He's quickly realizing just how much of a fan I am… Anyway, as I was reading it to him last night while he was driving, I got to thinking about how awesome Arya's storyline gets by the fourth and fifth books, and I decided to write this. It's basically just a brief look at the different identities she's taken throughout the series, but in a modern setting. Plus Jaqen. I hope you like it.

 **Disclaimer:** Everything belongs to George R. R. Martin.

 **Rating:** M for occasional strong language.

* * *

"So...who are you?"

The young woman across from him didn't respond right away, just glaring at him with heavily lined grey eyes, a scowl tugging down the corners of her dark lips. He could see her foot tapping rhythmically against the carpet and her fingers drummed in a steady pattern on the arm of the couch. She seemed distracted, and her free hand kept creeping to the pocket of her leather jacket before moving back to her lap.

He lifted his pen and made a note at the top of his legal pad. _She's a smoker._

"I'll start. My name is Dr. H'ghar. I've been working here for—"

"I don't give a fuck," she snapped impatiently, gnawing on a thumbnail. "And what do you care who I am? I'm no one important. You just want my sister's money."

He sat calmly, unperturbed by her outburst. At least she had spoken. And sooner than he had thought she would too.

"So it's your sister who sent you here."

She snorted and crossed her arms over her chest. "Yeah. You should know that. She paid with a credit card. Dear, sweet, perfect, beautiful, successful Sansa Clegane can't stand having such a disappointment of a little sister so what does she do when we're finally reunited after all these years? Sends me to a fucking shrink. Says "it's what I need"." She snorted again and gave him a withering glare. "Bullshit."

Jaqen met her gaze for a moment before turning back to the paper on his lap. _Reunited?_

"You know what doctor client privilege is, don't you?"

She raised her eyebrows and nodded, looking at him as if he were two years old. "Doesn't everybody?"

He ignored the question and continued. "Your sister may be paying for your sessions, but she has no right to know what happens during them. We could sit in complete silence for the next three months and she would never have to know."

She relaxed a bit at that, but still eyed him warily. "Yeah, but wouldn't that go against your morals or something? Knowing that you weren't giving me any help?"

His expression remained blank. "I didn't think you thought I could give you any help."

Just as quickly, the distrust returned and she poked a finger in his direction. "You're tricky aren't you? Well, I won't fall for any of your psychobabble games. I've gotta pee."

With that, she shouldered her way out of the room and Jaqen sighed, glancing at the watch on his wrist. It had only been five minutes and she was already running away to smoke. _Heavily addicted. Probably started as a minor._

Lifting one of his legs to rest across the opposite knee, he folded his hands in his lap and waited patiently until she came storming back in, reeking of cheap cigarette smoke.

"How long have you been smoking?"

She recoiled as if she'd been slapped, but at least had the decency to look ashamed. "Since the accident."

 _Accident?_

He nodded as if he knew what she was referring to, unwilling to push her further. She settled back on the couch across from him and picked at the fraying upholstery.

"You're not American, are you?"

As he had expected, she shifts the line of questioning toward him. For the moment, he decided to indulge her. "No. I was born and raised in Germany. I moved to the United States as a teenager." She nodded, looking more than disinterested in his answer as her eyes took in the walls of the room.

"I could tell by your accent."

"Yes, so I assumed." He said it a bit more drily than he had intended, but she flashed him a brief smirk at the display of sarcasm. Perhaps they had more in common than either of them had realized.

She fell silent after that and he busied himself with doodling absently on his legal pad, enjoying the looks she gave him occasionally as his pen continued to move. He could tell that she wanted to ask him what he was writing, but she restrained, and by the time the hour was over, not another word has been spoken. It seemed as though she'd taken his suggestion for spending their sessions in silence.

She was as aware of the time as he was, so when the minute hand crosses the twelve she was on her feet and out the door, ignoring his bland, "I'll see you tomorrow, miss."

* * *

"Do you really not know who I am?"

It had been three weeks, and after spending their time in silence or discussing things that had no pertinence to his treatment of her, she had opened up a bit more. At the very least she was comfortable with him as an acquaintance, even if not yet as her psychiatrist.

Of course, he knew who she was. The pretty, concerned young woman who had come to him seeking his help with her little sister had spoken the name Arya, so yes. He knew her name, but even then not a last one. Clegane was the sister's married name.

"Your sister told me your name, but aside from that, no." Deciding that his dry sense of humor may come in handy in helping her to actually tell him about herself he added, "I've just been calling you 'the difficult one' in my head for the past three weeks."

She laughed at that as he had hoped she would and a small smile stayed on her lips as she looked at him. "That sounds about right."

He nodded and resettled the notepad on his lap, moving his pen to the paper. "I know quite a bit about that girl. Why don't you tell me about Arya?"

She tensed slightly at the mention of her name then relaxed again with a heavy sigh. "Arya. I haven't been Arya for a long time."

"Who have you been then?"

The young woman gave a one-shouldered shrug and absently pushed her hair back from her forehead. "Arry, Nan, Cat, Beth…those are the names that lasted for more than a night."

He raised his eyebrows, unsure of exactly what to write before simply copying down her words. _Arry, Nan, Cat, Beth._

"Tell me about Arry." She bristled at the direct command and he sighed before adding, "If you'd like."

A few minutes passed in silence before she crossed her arms over her chest and looked out the window. "Arry...umm...was what he used to call me, when we were together."

"Was this a friend of yours?"

She nodded silently, chewing on her bottom lip.

"A boyfriend?"

At that, she sighed again and turned to look at him. "Yes. No. He was more than that, at least I thought he was."

Jaqen watched her in silence. Things could have been entering dangerous territory and he wasn't willing to push her and get her to shut him out again.

Finally, she spoke again, her voice quiet. "I loved him. We were both young, but I really did. I thought I wanted to spend the rest of my life with him. I...I gave myself to him, and told him how I felt and he..." she laughed sardonically and shrugged. "Didn't feel the same way. He was everything to me, and I guess that was my mistake. I should've known that I would just end up getting hurt."

He took a moment to write down the key points of her story before gently prompting her to continue. "Perhaps, but if you can talk about it, it seems that you've recovered."

She shrugged again, looking defeated. "Does anyone ever really recover from their first real heartbreak?" When he didn't answer, she kept talking. "But yeah, I can talk about it now. I haven't, but I guess it kinda feels good to let that off my chest." She flashed him a wry grin. "I guess you may actually be good at this shrink shit."

A smile tugged at the corners of his lips and he looked at her in amusement. "I'll take that as a compliment."

Having actually made progress, he wasn't about to lose the connection they had made and spent the rest of the session chatting with her about the new Italian restaurant that had opened just down the street. It was a safe conversation, and she was relaxed enough by the end of the hour that he felt confident she would continue to share her story, given time.

* * *

"What about Nan?"

She kicked her feet up onto the coffee table between them and laced her hands behind her head. "Nan. Short for Nymeria. Read that name in some book once and always liked it. Nan was a tough bitch."

"You have to adapt to survive a young heartbreak."

She nodded in agreement. "Yeah, I guess that's what I was doing. After he left, I had nowhere to go, so I went by a different name, cut my hair, and started working in an entry level job at a Northern law firm, taking calls for a man named Bolton." He wrote down the details and couldn't help but smile when she added, "That's an important name. Write that one down. He'll come back later."

Later. That tended to be a very promising word.

"The job didn't last too long though. I think he was beginning to recognize me after a few months, so I split, did it all over again."

"Changed your identity?"

A nod of affirmation gave him his answer. "As much as you can when you aren't even eighteen yet and can't really change your name even if you wanted to. Cat was next." She smiled wistfully. "After my mother."

"It's a pretty name."

She nodded again and lapsed into a brief silence before, "Yeah. I guess I never really gave up my past as much as I always wanted to. Cat and Beth weren't very different for me. Just a case of 'different city, different name'. Both times I was living on the street, eating when I could, sleeping even less, just wandering the streets at night. I learned about people doing that. Nobody's ever aware of just who's watching them."

Jaqen looked at her curiously. That was something most people didn't realize until an age much older than she could possibly be.

"And who are you now?"

She sighed and shook her head. "I don't know anymore. No one, I guess."

In that instant, he knew what it was that he was supposed to do. In three months, he needed to convince this girl of who she really was.

* * *

They only had two weeks left of their paid-for time together when he decided to make his move. It was after a half hour spent discussing the art of fencing that he finally changed the subject.

"There's still someone that you haven't told me about."

She looked surprised at the sudden shift in topic. "Hm?"

"Arya."

Her grey eyes regarded him carefully, and when she saw nothing but genuine curiosity and concern in the ones that met her gaze, she nodded. "Arya Stark."

 _Stark._

"Born the third of five children. Robb, Sansa, Arya, Brandon, and Rickon. Our parents were Eddard and Catelyn Stark. He was the best man I ever knew. Kind to everyone, always just. And mom...she loved us all so much. Sometimes I think it's better that she never saw what happened to us all."

Jaqen stayed quiet. She seemed ready to tell this story, so he wasn't about to interrupt.

"I guess Bran was the first. When I was eight, he fell out of the tree that Mom always told him not to climb and broke his spine. He's been paralyzed ever since. Dad came next. I was fourteen when he died. They said it was a work related accident, and I guess we all accepted that. The same year, Sansa started Joffrey Baratheon, the son of our father's best friend. We didn't see her much after that, and when we did, she was covered in bruises from "doorknobs, bedposts"...you name it. I wanted to kill the bastard. He got his comeuppance in the end.

"Two years later, Mom and Robb were killed in a car accident. On the way to his wedding. They were hardly a mile from the church when Roose Bolton t-boned them in an intersection. The asshole was more concerned about the scratch on his Porsche than the fact that he had killed two people."

 _Bolton._ He remembered that name.

"When I went to work for him later, I had half a mind to kill him. I think I would've too if he hadn't started to realize who I was. I would've done it without a second thought, but I wasn't ready to serve the time for it, and I was afraid that if anyone discovered who I was it would be all too easy to connect me to him."

Jaqen nodded. The police would've had a field day with a case like that.

"After they died, that's when I really started running. Bran and Rickon disappeared into the foster care system, Sansa was trapped with Joffrey, and I had no one left. I met Gendry not long after, and maybe it was because I felt so alone that I fell in love with him. Either way, he was just the first stop in a long line of new identities. I haven't felt at home in my own skin since I was a kid."

"What about now?"

She raised her eyebrows. "What about it?"

"Haven't things come together for you? Think about it. Tell me about your family."

Her gaze was somewhat wary, but she did as he asked. "Sansa's married now. To the man who finally got her away from the abuse. They're expecting their second soon. Bran's living with them, just for now, while he gets his feet under him—metaphorically. Rickon..." She frowned. "We still don't know where he is. I think he had it even worse off than I did. But we'll find him. Soon."

A heavy silence fell over the room and it was just before the end of the hour that Jaqen spoke up again. "So tell me who you are."

Her gaze was blurry with tears when she met his and the smile on her lips is weak, but grateful. "I'm a Stark."

* * *

The two weeks that followed were spent making her realize what she still had left, and by their last session, she was animatedly telling him about the antics of her two year old niece Leana and how she seemed to be taking more after her father with every passing day, much to Sansa's exasperation.

When the hour was over, she stood with a wide, easy grin, and extended a hand for him to shake. "I know I've been difficult, to use your own words, but...thank you. I guess Sansa was right."

His smile was a little more bittersweet, but he shook her hand and accepted her thanks nevertheless. "You're welcome. I'm glad that I could help."

She nodded and was almost at the door when she hesitated and turned back, biting at her bottom lip and fiddling with the hem of her jacket. "Umm...so. I guess this means I'm not really your patient anymore, right?"

He raised his eyebrows and nodded, unsure of what she was getting at.

Her smile was shy and she looked down at her feet for a moment before meeting his gaze again. "I still haven't been to that Italian place down the street."

His eyes widened in realization before a wide smile bloomed across his features. "Neither have I."

She laughed in relief and nodded again. "So...7? Tonight?"

A teasing smile quirked at his lips. "Who's asking?"

Laughing again, she smiled at him broadly. "I, Arya Stark, am asking you, Jaqen H'ghar, on a date."

He couldn't remember the last time he had smiled quite so freely, and he nodded as she headed out the door. "With pleasure...Miss Stark."


	6. Sweat and Steel

**A/N:** Taking a short break from the modern settings for a Roman Gladiator AU. I decided to write this as I was going through the arena questline in _Oblivion_ and I'm rather pleased with how it turned out. That being said, I did do research into the culture of the Roman Arena, but it was not extensive. If we have any history buffs out there reading this and you see any mistakes, please let me know. I want this to be as accurate as it can be. Anyway, thank you to **Killthebeast** for reviewing "Past and Present", and again, a reminder to everyone that I do take requests, whether that be for a completely new idea or a continuation of one of the already written chapters.

 **Disclaimer:** Everything belongs to George R. R. Martin. And Tolkien for the Eowyn quote. Just too good not to use.

 **Rating:** M for violence, some vaguely suggestive content, and occasional language.

* * *

The soles of her feet ached as she walked across the dirty cobblestones. The day had seemed particularly long and she was eager to find a place to curl up and rest her battered body. The pile of straw behind the palace stables was still tamped down from her last two nights spent there and she sank onto it once more. As comfortable as this spot had become, it wouldn't be safe to stay any longer than she already had.

The young woman who hunkered in the shadows, gnawing on a stolen heel of bread, had once been Arya Stark, but since the murders of her parents at the hands of Lannister loyalists, she was only a filthy beggar, starving most nights as she shivered beneath the cold expanse of stars.

The only thing she had to remind her of her past life was the sword her half-brother Jon had given her, a slender blade that she had fondly named Needle. Though it was a weapon more fit for the eight-year-old girl she had been than the fifteen-year-old woman she had become, she refused to part with it, and it had saved her life on more than one occasion.

When she awoke the next morning, her stomach grumbled unhappily, but having been fed the night before, was not enough to keep her from rising and facing another day. Wearily, her calloused feet carried her through the streets, and it wasn't until she was safely in a dark alley that she raised her dirty face from the ground.

As she had hoped, there was a pigeon pecking at the discarded scraps from a nearby food stall and she crept toward it, snapping its neck when she was close enough to reach out and grab it. Happy that she would go another night without having to beg, her guard fell, and it wasn't until she saw the pair of feet before her that she realized she had been followed.

"Give me the bird," the man growled, gripping her arm painfully and trying to force it from her grasp.

She glared at him defiantly. "No. It's mine. I killed it."

"Give it or you'll go back to whatever hole you've been hiding in with an empty stomach and a beating."

As he reached for it again, she drew her hand to her hip, and Needle found its way across his throat before he could speak another threat. When she looked back to the pigeon, its feathers were stained crimson and she threw it aside in disgust and frustration. The bastard had ruined a good meal.

"You're awfully handy with that sword." She whirled around in alarm just as a man emerged from the shadows behind her, an amused smirk on his handsome features. When their eyes met, his expression shifted. "I know you."

She eyed him warily. He didn't look like one of the many beggars she had crossed paths with, with his colored hair and tailored clothing. She assumed he must have been one of the brothel regulars then. The first time she had spent the night with a man, she had been sure that she would die of hunger. Each time after, she spent the rest of the evening crying, too disgusted with herself to buy food with the coins that she had earned. It was only when she awoke with an unbearable pain in her belly that she forced herself to forget where she had gotten it and spent it on as much food as it would buy.

"I've worked some nights at the King's Chambers," she murmured quietly, moving her gaze to the polished toes of his boots.

"No, that's not it. You're Arya Stark."

She could feel her heart stop at the mention of her name. It had been years since she had heard it, and even longer since she had considered it her own. If he knew who she was, then her days were numbered. She could still remember the day that Robb and Catelyn had been killed. The Stark name still bore the weight of the crime her father had been accused of. It was a dangerous name to have.

"You were going to eat that bird weren't you?" She nodded silently, and his voice softened. "Are you truly that hungry?" As if in reply, her stomach gurgled in protest at the hours that had passed since she had last eaten and the man before her stepped forward.

"Tell me, girl, would you like to have enough food to satisfy your hunger for the rest of your life, however long or short it may be? Would you like to return honor to the Stark name? Would you like to see your sister again?"

At the mention of Sansa, her gaze returned to his, and though she didn't answer, he could see the faint glimmer of hope in her eyes and he smiled, extending a hand.

"Then come with me."

* * *

The man's name was Jaqen H'ghar. He was young, but rich, and had been looking for a fighter to sponsor that could bring his name to the limelight of the gladiatorial ring. Arya Stark would be this fighter.

For the first few weeks, he let her be, giving her a large room with a feather bed and a window that looked out over the gardens of his estate. As promised, she had enough food to keep her belly silent and she ate ravenously, as if to make up for all the years she had been forced to steal and whore to keep herself alive.

In that time, she began to gain weight again, her body filling out to accommodate the curves that womanhood had brought her but that her starvation had kept from forming. Lord H'ghar's blacksmith took Needle and designed a new sword that was equally as light and slender, but that would be sturdy and quick enough for the arena. She named it Vengeance. When it was finished, her training began.

"You've seen fights in the arena before, I presume."

Arya nodded, blocking the blow that Jaqen aimed for her chest and countering with a slash to his unguarded shoulder. "As a child. The Emperor would often invite father to watch with him and he would take us with if we wanted to see. Sansa never did, but I went with Robb and Bran." Those were the days before the emperor's assassination, and the accusation of her father's role in the attempted deposition of his eldest son.

"Then you've seen the men that fight. The prisoners aren't trained, but their desperation makes them fearless. The ones who are hired to fight for sport are the well trained brutes. No doubt you've heard of the Clegane brothers. And last but not least, there are those who are trained to bring glory to their sponsors, as you are, my dear. You're the most unpredictable kind, and before you go in, we'll discover what advantages you have over each of your fellow warriors."

"Yes, except there's one small difference between me and the rest of them." She pressed him against the straw dummy behind him, her sword at his throat. "I'm not a man."

His blue eyes twinkled in amusement and he moved the sword from his neck. "Believe me, once I'm finished with you, you won't be Arya Stark or a nameless beggar. You'll be a gladiator."

* * *

"Lords and ladies, knights and paramours, allow me to welcome you to...the...arena!" The crowd roared in approval and above them all, Emperor Joffrey Baratheon surveyed his subjects, a cruel smirk twisting at his thin lips. "Today's battle brings you a brand...new...gladiator!"

The rise in volume at the end of each of the announcer's sentences made Arya want to bang her head against a wall, and when she saw her annoyance mirrored in the blatant eyeroll of her sponsor, she allowed herself a small smile. He smiled back.

"The first is a man you know and love. A former member of the royal guard, honorably discharged to fight for your viewing pleasure. Please welcome...Meryn...Trant!" The deafening applause revealed the support behind the entering gladiator as he banged his sword on his shield and let out an equally loud bellow, likely meant to intimidate the opponent he knew was nearby, and only succeeding in annoying her further.

As the announcer began the speech for her own entrance, Jaqen leaned forward, his lips brushing against her ear. "Just remember your training. I'll see you when this is over."

"Fighting under the noble house H'ghar...Arry...Snow!"

The sunlight that greeted her was all but blinding and she squinted up at the crowd. They didn't seem very much enthused by her, but Jaqen had said that was to be expected. New fighters were rarely bet on and as such, there would be more people unhappy with her victory than otherwise. Given time, however, the crowd always learned to favor a fighter who was able to rise through the ranks.

Arya— _Arry_ , had barely regained her— _his_ wits when the announcer spoke again. "Let the battle...begin!"

For a split second, she was just a terrified young woman, out of place in a world that belonged to bloodthirsty men. Then, training and instinct kicked in.

 _"Meryn Trant. An ass of a man if I've ever seen one. He's cruel, that one. If you let him gain the upper hand, you'll suffer before you go. Always was one to please the emperor."_

He charged at his opponent with a yell and thrust his sword toward her, his eyes narrowing beneath his helmet when she easily sidestepped the blow.

 _"He's big too, so he'll be stronger than you, but slower. Your speed will be your greatest asset. Dodge, tire him out. He'll get angry, lose focus. That will give you your opportunity."_

The new young gladiator was quick, and surprisingly graceful, with light armor and a thin blade that found its mark with deadly accuracy. The crowd had quieted as the suspense built and a hush fell over the arena, broken only by the rhythmic clashing of steel from below. Trant quickly grew reckless, swinging his sword in a desperate attempt to hit his opponent. As his weapon swept toward the opposing helmet, Snow dropped to one knee, avoiding the blow and thrusting her sword into the gap of Trant's armor where it sank into his flesh and came out bloody.

A moment later, the bulky gladiator's body fell to the dusty floor of the arena and when the shock had worn off, the crowd broke into a hum of unintelligible chatter, drowned out only by the roar of the announcer. "We have...a...winner!"

* * *

Arya was back in her room at the H'ghar manor peeling off her armor and the tightly bound length of linen beneath when she heard a knock at the door. Assuming it was one of Jaqen's servants with the bath she had requested, she was surprised when she turned to meet the gaze of her sponsor himself. Blushing, she crossed her arms over her breasts and dropped her eyes to the floor.

"My lord."

"So formal now? Even after I've spent the past moon's turn as your equal in the training yard? I had hoped we were past the point of such courtesies, Arya."

Her eyes sought his again, filled with worry and fear. "I'm not Arya anymore. I'm Arry Snow. A bastard lucky enough to get a sponsor. A boy who could've been _killed_ today." She glanced at her reflection in the mirror behind him, at the short hair and the stubble on her chin that the ashes from the fireplace had created. "How do they do it, Jaqen? How did _I_ do it? Just watch people kill each other."

He shrugged, his expression blank. "All men must die." Their eyes met, and after a minute, he turned away. "Join me in the dining hall when you've finished with your bath. We have some celebrating to do."

* * *

The next month passed in a blur, each fight nothing more than instinct, the killing blow, and the cheers that met her victory, growing louder with each consecutive fight. Jaqen was being invited to functions across the Empire as his gladiator grew in fame, and it was after taking the life of the widely renowned Ilyn Payne that Arya received the first invitation of her own.

Jaqen was seated beside her when she woke, and it was only when the pounding of her heart settled that she self-consciously pulled up her blankets to hide her nudity. He seemed not to notice, merely smiling down at her in amusement.

"We've been invited to the palace."

Her embarrassment subsiding, she turned away from him and frowned deeply. "What palace?"

" _The_ palace," he emphasized, lifting himself from her bed and pacing to the window. "The Baratheon palace. The emperor's palace."

She sat up in alarm, barely noticing when the blankets fell from her grasp. "I can't go to the palace."

He turned back to her and she blushed when she realized that his gaze had fallen to her chest. "Why not?"

"Because my sister is the empress. She'll recognize me!"

Jaqen's eyes met hers, surprisingly cold. "You are no longer the girl she knew. You haven't been for many years. And besides, you'll be accompanying me as Arry Snow, the gladiator. As long as those aren't on display, no one will know." He gestured toward her breasts with a teasing smile and she crossed her arms over her chest with a huff.

"Fine. But don't expect me to stay long. I need to prepare for tomorrow's fight."

* * *

"So, _Snow_ , you're a bastard then." Arya gritted her teeth and nodded, giving the Emperor a tight-lipped smile. "How did you meet Lord H'ghar?"

The question found her with a mouthful of charred boar and Jaqen, ever the charming gentleman, answered for her. "Arry was a blacksmith's apprentice. I saw his work and asked if he knew how to fight as well as he could craft. When the answer was yes, I asked him to consider a sponsorship for the arena. You've seen all that's happened since." Not for the first time, she wondered how he had learned to lie with such ease, and if it should worry her.

Beside her husband, Sansa Baratheon sat quietly, her plate virtually untouched as she stared vacantly at the wall opposite her. It hurt to see her so reserved. When they were young she had always been quick with a kind word or a genuine smile. Now she looked like a shell of her former self and not for the first time, Arya wondered if her sister's life had been as hard as hers despite its apparent luxury.

The dinner passed slowly, a thirteen course hell that Arya barely managed to stay awake through, letting Jaqen talk for both of them as she ate plate after plate of royal delicacies. Thankfully, her sponsor's mysterious charm and her own success in the arena had attracted the emperor and the two men excused themselves to Joffrey's solar after the meal, allowing Arya free range of the palace grounds.

After exploring the gardens, she found herself hopelessly lost in the winding hallways and was ready to give up and ask the nearest guard when she heard a familiar voice.

"Must you return? I thought your fighting days were over." Sansa sounded desperate, nearly in tears.

The voice that answered was deep, and though Arya didn't recognize it, she knew for sure that it didn't belong to her sister's husband. "I thought so too, little bird, but after that new whelp killed Joffrey's favorite, he's gotten bored. He wants me back, to either kill Snow or die trying. Either way, it would be a good show for the bastard."

"How could you say such a thing?" Her tone was furious now, and Arya heard the sound of harsh footsteps, as though she had moved closer to confront the other speaker. "You know I couldn't live without you. And what about..." There was a soft rustle of movement and Arya resisted the urge to peer around the corner.

"Hush, little bird. Do you want them to kill us both?" The man sighed heavily and Arya held her breath as they grew silent. Finally, Sansa spoke again.

"Just promise that you'll come back to me. To us. Don't let him tear us apart."

She heard the telltale sound of a kiss and her eyes widened. So that's why Sansa was so unhappy. Aside from being married to the biggest prick in Rome, she was in love with another man. A man who was supposed to kill her.

Arya nearly jumped out of her skin when Sansa rounded the corner, but thankfully, Sansa was preoccupied and hardly seemed to notice her as she brushed past and hurried away into the heart of the palace. Steadying her pounding heart, she walked forward and came face to face with Sandor Clegane, the youngest of the two brothers famous for their success in the arena and their inhuman strength. Her heart sank, but she managed a smile. Of all the men for her sister to have fallen for...

"Do you know the way to the Emperor's solar, ser?"

The large man glared down at her with an unfriendly snarl, the burns on the left side of his face twisting harshly. "I'm no ser. And get the fuck out of my way." With that, he pushed past her and Arya stood rooted to the floor for several minutes before wearily returning to her fruitless wandering.

* * *

"The Emperor made a request of us." It was the first time that Jaqen had spoken since they had climbed into the chariot, opting for a pensive silence instead. Arya grunted noncommittally, lost in her own thoughts, and he continued. "You'll be fighting Sandor Clegane after the passing of two moons. He wants you to win until then so that it will be the 'spectacle of the century' when you finally meet in battle."

"I thought he had left the arena," Arya said drily, wondering if she should tell her sponsor about what she had learned regarding the gladiator and her sister.

"He did, but he's coming back at the Emperor's personal request. His excellence is a hard man to refuse."

She snorted and crossed her arms, staring moodily up at the stars. Jaqen took note of her reaction and he reached out, laying a gentle hand on her knee. "We will keep training until then. I will do everything in my power to keep you alive."

When she met his gaze, she saw nothing but sincerity and instead of soothing her frayed nerves, it merely set her further on edge. She wasn't ready to die.

* * *

"Ser Snow?"

It took a moment for her to realize that she was the one being addressed. The knighthood was new: a gift from the emperor who got no end of amusement from the thought of a bastard knight fighting against the man who had famously refused to ever take such an oath.

"Yes?"

She wiped the sweat from her brow and leaned on her sword as she cocked an eyebrow at the flighty servant wringing her hands in the doorway from the manor to the training grounds.

"You have a visitor, ser. She's waiting in the solar and she wishes to speak with you most urgently."

Arya's brow furrowed at that. She could think of many men who would seek an audience with her, particularly with the knowledge that Lord H'ghar was away at a neighboring manor, but not very many women. They tended to stay out of the public eye in regards to the gladiatorial battles. She hoped with all that she had that it wouldn't be a whore hoping for a romp with the now famous warrior that all of Rome believed her to be.

"Very well. Thank you."

The servant bowed and scurried away, leaving Arya to put away her sword and trudge into the manor. The sight that greeted her in Jaqen's modest solar stopped her in the doorway and she was suddenly immensely glad that her sponsor had ordered her to keep up her disguise in the event of any visitors—or spies.

"My lady." She dropped into a low bow, her heart hammering in her chest as she straightened up to meet the weary gaze of her older sister.

"Ser," the empress replied cordially, before glancing nervously around. "Is there somewhere more private that we could speak?"

Arya faltered for a moment. "Yes, my lady. This way."

She led her to her private quarters and shut the door behind her. As soon as they were alone, Sansa spoke. "You are fighting against S...the Hound on the morrow." It was a statement rather than a question, but Arya nodded regardless. "It is imperative that he wins."

Arya stared at her in disbelief in silence before finally narrowing her eyes and stepping forward. "Do you realize what it is that you're asking of me?" Of course she did. Broken as she had become, she had to understand that if anyone knew what she was asking, her secret would be discovered and she would be sentenced with high treason.

Sansa nodded sagely and folded her hands absently across her abdomen. For the first time, Arya registered the noticeable swell beneath her gown, and as her heart leapt to her throat, she wondered absently if the child's father was Joffrey, or Sandor Clegane. "I'm asking you to die."

"And you expected me to just roll over and accept this?"

At the sudden aggressive rise in volume from the gladiator that stood before her, Sansa's eyes widened and she grew flustered, her cheeks flushing darkly. "I told you—you must. There is no other option."

"Did the emperor send you here? I thought Joffrey wanted to see a battle, not a slaughter. Gods damn it, Sans, I can't just give up my life like that!" Her heart nearly stopped when she realized her blunder, but fortunately, her sister seemed not to notice the use of her childhood nickname, merely looking at her with tear-filled eyes.

"You don't understand!" She wailed, stepping forward and taking one of Arya's hands. "You must! I can't—he _can't_ die!" Overcome with emotion, she burst into tears and fled the room, leaving Arya to watch her go, alone with her choice.

* * *

"Arya? Arya..."

She stirred at the sound of her name and opened her eyes, squinting into the darkness. When they had adjusted, she saw a familiar slender form perched beside her in her bed and she propped herself up on an elbow.

"Jaqen? I thought you wouldn't be here until the morning."

She yawned and he simply shook his head, a troubled expression on his handsome features. "I heard that the empress made a visit while I was away."

Arya sighed and nodded wearily. "The emperor merely sent her to wish me luck in the battle. I'm sure she did the same for Clegane." That and then some.

Jaqen didn't look convinced, but he nodded as though he believed her before watching her in silence for a moment. When Arya began to grow uncomfortable beneath his piercing gaze, she opened her mouth to speak again. "Was there something that you—" Before she could finish, his lips were pressed to hers, soft but insistent, and he broke away before she could think to return the gesture.

He looked almost afraid when she met his gaze again and he stammered nervously, for once at a loss for words. "I just...in case...I wanted to do that, if only once." And with that, he was gone.

* * *

"Any last minute advice?" Arya asked, trying to be lighthearted despite the reality of the situation. Jaqen shook his head, keeping his gaze turned to the ground. He had hardly spoken more than two words to her all morning, let alone met her eyes.

She could hear the crowd outside begin their applause and knew it would only be a matter of seconds before she was back in the arena for what very well could be the last time. "Jaqen..."

Finally, he raised his head and Arya stepped forward before she could second guess herself, cupping his face in her hands and kissing him soundly. When she finally pulled away, she rested her forehead against his, drinking in the look of desire and fear in his deep blue eyes. "I'll walk out of there, Jaqen, I promise you." After years of denying her name and living in fear, she finally had a life again and she wasn't ready to throw that away. It was time to embrace it, and start over for good.

"...Ser...Arry...Snow!"

She pressed her lips to his for another quick kiss before turning and jogging into the arena, her heart heavy in her chest as she steeled her resolve and stalked to the center of the ring, her eyes on her opponent as he watched her warily.

"Let the battle...begin!"

The crowd was deathly silent as she continued her advance, even when the Hound drew his sword and planted his feet in the blood-soaked dirt. She was mere steps away when she stopped and without a second thought threw her sword to the ground. In the silence of the arena, her voice carried, echoing against the walls around them and traveling to every pair of ears that sat above watching with tense anticipation.

"I forfeit."

The silence continued for a few seconds before all hell broke loose, one voice rising above all the others with a childish petulance. "He can't do that! I'm the emperor and I say he can't! Fight, damn it! I came here to see a fight!"

Having expected such a reaction, Arya looked up to meet the panicked gaze of her sister before reaching up and removing her helmet. Jaqen, having been preoccupied with avoiding her, hadn't thought to ensure that she had disguised herself thoroughly for the battle, and the crowd was met with the sight of a young woman, her shaggy dark brown hair framing a set of features far too delicate for even the prettiest of young men.

A shocked silence reigned again and gave her the opportunity to speak once more. "My name is not Arry Snow. And I am no man. _I am Arya Stark_."


	7. Home

**A/N:** I am so sorry for the long wait. Turns out that college is a huge time suck. Who knew? Anyway, this is my take on the request given to me by **Aranwyn Nina Song**. I hope that it lives up to your expectations, my dear reader and reviewer. That being said, thank you to **Aranwyn Nina Song** for reviewing _Sweat and Steel_ , I hope you all like this newest installment, and Merry Christmas!

The original prompt for this is as follows: "...Dany and Aegon rule Westeros after killing the white walkers but because of fear of a northern rebellion for their freedom they decide to look for Arya and for Aegon to marry her, but she is already married to Jaqen after both left the faceless men and came back to the north, where they live in a cabin in the wolfwoods with Nymeria and her pack."

 **Disclaimer:** Everything belongs to George R. R. Martin.

 **Rating:** Soft M for mild language and sexual content.

* * *

Weary. That seemed the best way to describe Westeros after the conclusion of her latest and most bloody war. The War of Five Kings had taken its toll on both her lands and her people, and a cautious suspicion still remained in the minds of the latter even in the newfound era of peace.

The Targaryens were ruling once again, with Daenerys as queen and her nephews at her side. Jon Snow, who had opted to keep his bastard surname even after the revelation of his parentage, commanded the recently reformed city watch of King's Landing. Aegon served as his aunt's foreign liaison, keeping relations strong between the mainland and the Free Cities.

The only trial that yet remained was the loyalty of the North. Despite Jon's newfound heritage, the siblings he had been raised with were wary of their new ruler. In all honesty, the new queen understood Lady Sansa's hesitation; she, much like Dany, had been forced to grow up far too quickly in the midst of war.

Daenerys was seated in the small council chambers, tapping her quill impatiently against the letter she had been attempting to scribe for nearly two weeks' time, when she heard the sound of approaching footsteps. She raised her gaze as her eldest nephew entered the room, bowing low before moving to her side.

"You summoned me, Your Grace?"

"Yes." She set aside the parchment and steepled her fingers. "As you know, you have long been of marrying age. I believe it is time to put this fact to use."

She saw his expression sour slightly before he once again schooled his features, smiling graciously. "Of course, Your Grace. Is there a young lady you have in mind?"

Daenerys frowned and looked back down at the letter before her. "Yes...Arya Stark."

* * *

"Would you please escort me to my chambers, my lord?" Arya asked politely, her head held high and her expression haughty.

"Of course, Lady Stark," the man at her side answered with a smirk, before swiftly sweeping her off her feet and into his arms. "Or should a man say...Lady H'ghar?"

Arya let out an uncharacteristic giggle and wrapped her arms around her husband's neck. "Mmm...I happen to like the sound of that."

Jaqen cocked a brow. "Aye? How much?"

Her lips curved into a suggestive grin and she leaned forward to whisper in his ear. "I'll show you how much if you escort me to _our_ chambers... _husband..._ "

The wedding had been a private affair—very much so considering the fact that her siblings still had no true idea of her whereabouts. It had been just the two of them, standing before a weirwood and reciting their vows with Nymeria and her pack as witness to their union.

After fleeing from Westeros, Arya had remained a student of the House of Black and White for nearly three years, learning their ways and eventually ascending to the rank of Faceless Man. In the years that followed, she killed when she was told, moving from one identity to the next as countless victims died by her hands. She had become no one, and it wasn't until she had been reunited with her old ally that she remembered who she had once been.

Jaqen H'ghar brought Arya Stark back to life and perhaps foolishly, she allowed it. Leaving the Faceless Men behind, they had returned to her home in the North, not Winterfell, but deep in the forest to the west, in the very heart of the Wolfswood. There, Arya and Nymeria were reunited, and in the years since, the pack had kept them safe from the outside world.

At first, they were content to simply exist together in peace, loving frequently and living happily. It wasn't until Jaqen had returned from a small village to the south with news of her sister's marriage that Arya realized something was missing.

Ever unladylike, she had proposed, and he had accepted. Now, they were man and wife, and that knowledge was far more fulfilling than she had ever imagined it could be.

Arya let out a yelp of surprise as Jaqen tossed her onto their pile of furs, but it turned to a breathless laugh as he landed on top of her, lips eager to capture her own.

Her legs fell open to accommodate his slender waist and drew him closer, eliminating the remaining space between them. Even after years spent as his lover, it still made her heart skip a beat when she felt the evidence of his desire against her aching core.

"Take me," she murmured, her eyes meeting his dark and lust-filled gaze. "Make me yours, husband..."

* * *

"What's wrong, little bird?"

Sansa sighed and handed the letter to her husband, frowning out the window as he read it.

"So the dragon wants to marry her nephew to the little wolf-bitch eh?" Sansa gave him a withering stare which he chose to ignore. "At least she's offering Aegon and not Jon."

Her nose wrinkled slightly at that and she looked back out the window. "I haven't seen Arya since before father was killed."

Softening, Sandor moved to his wife's side and placed a hand on her shoulder. "I know, little bird. You'll have to write back to our new queen and tell her as much."

Sansa sighed again and cast him a worried glance. "I fear she might see our refusal as an act of hostility. I want nothing of the sort between us. I'm sick of everything but peace."

Sandor shrugged. "There isn't much choice we have in the matter. Unless your sister happens to show up at the gates of Winterfell, we don't have her to give to Aegon. Not to mention that even if she were here, I doubt she would go so easily. Just write back, little bird. The queen will have to understand."

Silent for a moment, Sansa thought about what he had said before slowly shaking her head and looking out the window to where Bran sat wistfully by the edge of the training yard. "There may be another way..."

* * *

 _The earth was hard beneath the claws, the taste of blood tangy and satisfying against her tongue. She had missed the hunt in their years apart, when she had fallen asleep hungry and tired beneath the stars. Now, she awoke each morn with the taste of fresh meat in her mouth and the soft down of a featherbed beneath her frame._

 _Lifting her head toward the sky, she howled, and her pack responded in kind, running alongside her as she tore through the forest to the weirwood at its center. It had calling to her as of late, beckoning in some strange way that she didn't understand. Tonight, its pull was fierce, an insistent tug in the very core of her being._

 _As its pale branches appeared in the moonlight, the invisible tether snapped, and a familiar voice spoke in her mind._

" _Arya! Nymeria! We thought we would never find you! Come back, Arya. Come home."_

"Shh...shh...a girl has no reason to fear. It was a dream. You're safe now."

Arya woke to Jaqen's arms around her and his lips beside her ear, soothing and caressing as her labored breathing continued. Nymeria sat beside the bed, whining as she rested her head on her mistress' lap.

 _"Come home."_

"I...I heard Bran. I heard his voice, in my dream. He told me to come back."

"To Winterfell?"

"I..." She took a deep breath and turned to meet his eyes. "Yes. To Winterfell. It's been so long...I...I don't know if I can go back, Jaqen. I can hardly remember what it looked like."

He was silent for a moment before raising an eyebrow. "And does a girl think she _should_ go back?"

She pondered the question with a frown, her fingers idly stroking through Nymeria's silky coat. Finally, she raised her gaze, her expression both determined and afraid. "I think I have to."

* * *

"My lord! We have a rider at the gates!"

Sandor frowned deeply and put a hand to his sword belt before ascending the battlements. Seeing as the young dragon had arrived a fortnight ago and Brandon had yet to report any progress on the search for Arya, they weren't expecting any visitors.

Just as reported, though, a solitary horse was swiftly approaching. Its rider appeared to be without armor or any sign of a weapon.

"What in the name of..." Sandor squinted down at the figure as it rode closer and as it approached, his frown deepened. "By the gods...open the gate, boy."

Moving back down to the yard, he ran to the keep and shouldered his way into the great hall, loudly announcing his entrance. "Sansa, come quick!"

Startled, his wife obeyed, rising from her seat with a murmured apology before hurrying out after him as fast as her heavily pregnant belly would allow, concern evident on her features.

"Sandor, what is it?"

As she approached the open gates, the rider now in the yard swung down from her horse, and she let out a strangled gasp. "Oh, gods..." Her eyes filled with tears and she stumbled forward, meeting the figure halfway and sobbing into their tight embrace. "Oh, Arya! I thought you were dead!"

"I was for a time, sister," she responded cryptically, before pulling back and smiling ruefully. "Already having his pups are you? If anyone had ever told me that my sister would be married to the Hound, I never would've believed it."

Sandor approached and wrapped an arm around Sansa's shoulders, catching her as she leaned into his touch. "It's good to see you alive, wolf-bitch."

Arya laughed good-naturedly and grinned up at him. "Can't say the same for you seeing as how we parted, dog." Her grin faded as swiftly as it had appeared and she regarded her sister with a piercing gaze. "There will be time for pleasantries later. Bran said you needed me. Is there trouble?"

Sansa looked sheepishly up at her husband before slowly returning her gaze to meet her sister's. "Arya, there's someone you need to meet."

* * *

A fire had already been lit and had risen to roaring flame by the time the solar doors opened again, and Arya stood as Sansa entered with a stranger in tow. He was tall and fair-haired, and dressed in the kind of finery that Arya hadn't seen since her days in King's Landing. He practically reeked of royalty.

"Arya, this is the Prince, Aegon Targaryen. Your highness, this is my sister, Arya Stark."

Aegon bowed low and placed a dry kiss on the back of her hand, smiling thinly. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Lady Stark."

"I'm sure," she replied brusquely, shooting her older sister a look of suspicion. "For what reason, exactly, do I have the pleasure of making your highness' acquaintance?"

Aegon looked surprised by her response and he cast a glance at the hovering Cleganes before raising an eyebrow. "Hadn't you heard? By decree of my aunt, Queen Daenerys of Westeros, First of Her Name, we are to be wed."

* * *

"You brought me here to get _married_?!"

"The Queen sent me a letter directly," Sansa argued weakly. "And I wanted to see you again."

"You're unbelievable, Sansa," Arya hissed. "How can you possibly stand there beside the husband that you _love_ and ask me to marry a man that I've barely met?"

Sandor's jaw clenched, but he made no move to react to his good sister's increasing wrath.

"All your life, Sansa, you were nothing more than a pawn in the bloody game of thrones. How could you ask me to be the same? How could you bear to see me live out the rest of my life in a loveless marriage, just as much a farce as yours to the Imp?"

Sansa flinched at the mention of her first husband and turned away, her eyes wet with tears. Try as she might to deny it, she knew that what Arya said was true, and that only made it harder for her to listen.

"All those years I spent alone, Sansa," Arya continued, softer than before. "All I wanted was my life back. I wanted to hear you call me Arya Horseface and have Septa Mordane criticize my embroidery. When I came here...I thought we could be a family again. That I would be _home_ again. But I don't belong here anymore."

Shaking her head, she moved to the door, and only hesitated for a moment once it opened. "I'm not even Arya Stark anymore," she said quietly, meeting Sansa's teary gaze. "His name is Jaqen H'ghar. I had hoped you'd meet him one day."

* * *

He was waiting when she entered, with a question on his lips that died the moment he saw the tears in her eyes.

She kissed him, pouring every bit of longing and loneliness into their embrace, tearing and pulling until she felt his skin against her own and knew that she was a part of something. It was as they moved together in a familiar rhythm, eyes locked, breath mingling, lips ghosting across skin long since explored and carefully marked that she realized what it was to feel at home. It wasn't Winterfell, or Braavos, or the tiny ship cabin they had shared on their journey back to Westeros. Home was here. Home was _him_.


	8. The Wedding Date

**A/N:** So...this one-shot. Boy do I have a love/hate relationship with this one. I got the idea for it at least half a year ago, and it kept getting put on the back burner, but when I finally got around to writing for _Opposites Attract_ again, I needed a one-shot for these two to post with it, and so I came back. In the end, a 32 page monstrosity was born, and now I'm sharing it with you. As the title may suggest, this is based off of the movie _The Wedding Date_ with Debra Messing and Dermot Mulroney. That being said, I did cut a lot because this is already HUGE for a one-shot, and I altered a few of the plot points to fit with these characters. But it's still the basic premise, and parts of it are taken pretty much directly from the movie. Oh, and also, I made Sansa and Arya the only Stark children so I wouldn't have to worry about so many other characters. Anyway, enjoy reading, and review if you feel so inclined.

 **Disclaimer:** _ASOIAF_ belongs to George R. R. Martin and _The Wedding Date_ is the property of director Clare Kilner and whatever production company it's associated with.

 **Rating:** M for strong language, crude humor, sex stuff. The whole shebang.

* * *

"Hello?" She answered her phone somewhat warily. It wasn't often that her older sister called, and when she did, it was usually to ask for a favor.

"Arya? Is that you?"

Sansa's voice was shrill and high through the phone and Arya dragged it away from her ear with a grimace. "Yes, Sansa. Who else would it be?"

The moment of garbled background conversation that followed belied Sansa's distraction and Arya waited somewhat impatiently until she spoke again.

"Hm? Sure. But anyway, I have news. Really good news." Before she even had the chance to guess what sort of news it was, Sansa was squealing again in excitement. "Sandor proposed! We're finally getting married! And guess what? There's even better news…"

"You're pregnant too?" Arya replied drily, picking at the tacky remains of red nail polish on her fingernails.

"What? No. You know I'm on the pill." Arya dropped her head in her hands and made an exaggerated gagging noise, which Sansa ignored. "I was going to say…you're my Maid of Honor!"

... _Shit._

"Arya? Are you still there?"

She switched to speaker and got up from the table to retrieve a much needed bottle of wine. "Mmhm..."

"There's one more thing you should probably know..."

When Sansa didn't elaborate, Arya sighed heavily and took a drink straight from the bottle. "I'm listening, Sans."

"Do you remember Sandor's old college roommate? Gendry Waters?"

Arya gritted her teeth and returned to the table, swinging her feet up on top of it. "You mean the guy I dated for three years that just dumped me out of the blue when I thought he was going to propose? No…totally forgot about him until you mentioned it. Thanks for the reminder."

Sansa ignored the sarcasm dripping from her sister's words and continued nervously. "Yes, well...he'll be there too. He's the Best Man."

Now more than just annoyed, Arya snapped back with the first thing that came to mind. "So? I've got a new boyfriend. I don't care about that bastard anymore."

The relief in Sansa's tone was audible when she replied. "Really? Oh, Arya, that's so great. I'll send two plane tickets then. I can't wait! Love you! Bye!"

... _Fuck._

* * *

 _[Three months later]_

"Hello, Arya."

At the sound of her name, Arya yanked the earbuds from her ears and looked up sharply, her eyes widening as she took in the handsome stranger standing in the aisle beside her.

"Uh...hi..."

A charming smile fell easily across his features and he sat beside her, extending a hand. "Jaqen H'ghar, as I'm sure you know."

After accidentally telling Sansa about a boyfriend who didn't exist, Arya had frantically turned to the classifieds and called up the man beside her, a "male escort". From their conversation on the phone, she had gathered that he was primarily hired as a companion to prestigious events and galas, and usually didn't leave until morning.

She stared at him dumbly, offering a weak handshake. "Oh."

Never in a million years would she have imagined that the man she had hired would be so...gorgeous.

His smile widened at her obvious appraisal and Arya found herself watching how easily his lips curved to accommodate it. "Well, we should probably get a few things straight before we land and I have to meet your family. How long have we been dating?"

A blush rising to her cheeks, Arya broke eye contact and looked down at her lap, rubbing a hand across the back of her neck. "Uh...I don't know. Like...six months? That way, my mom shouldn't ask you when you're going to propose, but, she also won't assume you're just another hookup to try and get over Gendry. Also, you're absolutely crazy about me."

His eyebrows rose at the word 'another', and her blush flared deeper, but he respectfully declined from asking, instead opting for, "And Gendry is the Best Man? The one you're trying to get back?"

Arya sank further into her seat, taking a sip of the water in front of her and wishing she could just die from embarrassment already and be done with this conversation. "Yup."

He nodded in understanding and settled into his seat, leaving Arya to sigh in relief. After a few seconds of looking through the in-flight menu, he spoke again, not even bothering to look at his 'girlfriend'. "Have we slept together?"

Arya choked on her water, gasping for air as she sputtered noisily, attracting a few annoyed glances from some of the other passengers and an amused smirk from her companion. "Have we ever...uh..."

His smile grew and he gave a casual shrug. "I would have to charge you extra if you really wanted to. I just thought we should be on the same page about our...'relationship'."

 _God, kill me now._ "Yeah, no, of course." _More than the $6000 I'm already paying? Holy shit._ "I mean, I...uh, I guess so. My family will assume that we have anyway, so why not?"

He nodded and she fumed silently at the still evident smirk on his face, crossing her arms when the pilot began the safety procedures and turning moodily to look out the window.

This was quickly shaping up to be the worst week of her entire life.

* * *

"Arya!"

She had enough time to brace herself as her sister teetered over on a pair of stilettos and had managed a weak smile by the time she was pulled into Sansa's enthusiastic hug.

"Hey, Sans...Sandor."

Her sister's fiancé gave a nod of acknowledgment and dug a hand from his pocket to offer it to Jaqen with a short, "Sandor Clegane."

Sansa pulled away and glanced over at the two men, her eyebrows raised as she cast a glance back at her sister. " _That_ 's him? God, Arya? Where can I find one of those?"

Arya shot her a decidedly unamused look. "I'm telling Sandor you said that."

She shrugged and waved a hand in dismissal. "He knows I love him, but that doesn't mean I still can't appreciate a well-made man."

Arya's eyes nearly rolled out of her head, but she managed to stifle her annoyance when the men walked over and Jaqen introduced himself to Sansa, lifting one of her hands and pressing his lips to the back of it. Sansa blushed at the gesture and Sandor stood up a little straighter while Arya just glared at her hired date.

For as much money as she had spent on him, she wasn't sure if their relationship was very believable. He definitely wasn't her type. She usually fell for the dark, brooding ones in garage bands. She had never been with someone so...perfect.

Jaqen broke her from her thoughts with an arm around her waist and when she instinctively stiffened, he looked down at her with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes that she immediately hated.

"So where are mom and dad?" Arya asked, eager to change the subject as she peered around at the people milling about in the chosen venue for that day's open bar and guest check in. Leave it to Sansa to make her wedding a week long affair.

"Oh, somewhere around here, getting things ready and keeping Randa away from the single male guests." She smiled when Arya snorted in amusement and glanced back just as Jaqen slipped his hand into hers. "So how did you two meet?"

After their awkward conversation on the plane, they hadn't spoken much, and Arya floundered for a moment before Jaqen answered for her, lying smoothly. "We were sparring partners in her fencing class. After getting beaten a few too many times for my taste, I offered to take her out for coffee as a truce and she accepted. Six months later, here we are."

Arya was too disturbed by his knowledge of her hobbies to notice when Sansa mouthed 'six months?' and gave her a subtle thumbs up. She wouldn't have responded even if she had wanted to, and the sudden arrival of their parents saved her from having to.

Catelyn Stark hurried through the crowd at the sight of her youngest daughter, a wide smile on her face as she enveloped her in a tight hug. "Arya! Oh, it's so good to see you again, dear. It's been far too long."

Jaqen stood quietly and watched the exchange, only stepping forward when they broke apart and Catelyn's gaze settled on him. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Stark. I'm Arya's boyfriend, Jaqen H'ghar."

"Boyfriend?" Catelyn cast a surprised look toward her daughter before smiling happily. "Sansa told us that you were bringing a date, but we weren't expecting anything like this. Here, Jaqen, let me get you something to drink."

He was ushered away by the ever overbearing hostess and when the happy couple likewise disappeared, Ned made his way to his daughter's side.

"There's my little girl!"

She gave him a quick hug and an exasperated look. "I'm not so little anymore, Daddy. I turned 23 last month, remember?"

"Of course I do," Ned replied, squeezing his daughter against his side and smiling down at her. "But you'll always be my baby." His gaze turned to Jaqen and he cocked an eyebrow. "Where did you find him?"

Arya laughed somewhat uncomfortably and shrugged her shoulders. "Yellow Pages."

Ned laughed heartily at her answer and placed a kiss on the top of her head before excusing himself to go continue mingling with the guests. Arya remained for only a moment before retreating to the bathroom to gather her thoughts.

Once inside, she locked the door and sighed heavily, pulling the thick envelope from her purse and flipping through the bills inside once again. $6000 even. It had the potential for either her worst mistake or greatest investment. She just hoped it was the latter.

Shoving it back into the depths of her purse, she moved to the mirror and ran her fingers through her hair, adding as much volume as she could without a hairbrush. She knew that Gendry was around somewhere, and she wouldn't run into him without looking her best.

After deciding that she looked good enough at the very least, she opened the door, coming face to face with none other than the Best Man himself.

"Arya?"

Her eyes widened in surprise and she hastily plastered on a coy smirk. "Well...Gendry. Fancy seeing you here."

He looked different than she had remembered. Older, more mature. His once shaggy hair had been cut and he had the beginnings of a beard across his cheeks and chin, just enough to be incredibly attractive.

"Yeah...You know." He eyed her for a moment, his eyes lingering on the low neckline of her dress before he leaned in and kissed her cheek. "You look gorgeous, Arry. Really great. I mean that."

Her internal victory was sweet, but only momentary, cut off by the arrival of her sister's best friend, Myranda Royce.

"Oh my god! Arya Stark! Where the hell have you been?" She pulled her into a hug before turning to Gendry with a wide grin. "Hello, asshole. Listen, since you dumped my bestie's little sister brutally, and without cause, you won't mind if I just steal her away will you? Thanks."

They left him floundering at the bathroom doorway and Myranda smiled down at Arya as they descended the staircase to the kitchen. "It's good to see you again, but please, don't tell me you're still pining after that one when you have the most gorgeous man I've ever seen waiting for you right there."

Arya opened her mouth to defend herself, but Randa just shook her head and nudged her toward the bottom of the staircase where Jaqen stood nonchalantly against the wall.

When they were alone again, he raised an eyebrow and jerked his chin toward the bathroom at the top of the stairs. "Already moving in on your ex I see. I suppose that means I should get my payment." He extended a hand, his expression expectant.

Glaring up at him, Arya dug the money from her purse and shoved it into his chest before marching over to the bar and grabbing a martini. Sansa had descended from her room during her conversation with Gendry, and she was perched delicately on Sandor's lap at the bar, giggling as he fed her the olives from his drink.

Arya felt her heart twist and she downed her own drink in a few gulps, scowling deeply. Jaqen saw the change and made his way back to her side, standing silently behind the stool upon which she sat. When Sandor scooped Sansa from her seat and kissed her soundly, Arya whirled around and met Jaqen's gaze for a brief second before she kissed him angrily, her teeth tugging at his bottom lip. Soothing her silently, he lifted a hand to cradle her cheek and dropped his mouth to her neck, kissing it softly before moving to her earlobe and whispering quietly. "Do I detect a hint of jealousy?"

Though he said it with a teasing lilt to his voice, her rage boiled hotter and she sucked at the pulse point below his jaw, giving him a feral grin when his nostrils flared visibly. "Fuck you."

He chuckled, blue eyes twinkling. "Only after a few thousand more in cash."

* * *

"Finally, some more testosterone in this place."

Jaqen chuckled and nodded in agreement, turning around to face Gendry with a friendly smile. "Can't say I mind the estrogen though. Are there any attractive and unattached young women here you could spend some time with?"

The younger man eyed him for a moment before stepping up next to him and sighing heavily. "Can I be honest with you?"

Nodding, Jaqen watched him out of the corner of his eye as he leaned back on his elbows.

"Well, you know the bride? Sansa? Her Maid of Honor is actually my ex-girlfriend."

"Mm. No kidding?"

"Yeah. And well, I haven't seen her in like, two years, but when Sandor told me that she'd be here…I've just been thinking about her a lot, and I think I might've made a mistake letting her go. And now here she is, but she's with some other guy. I heard her sister mention a boyfriend."

Jaqen nodded and just on cue, Arya sauntered over to him, completely ignoring her ex as she leaned into her hired companion and gave him a long kiss. When she pulled away, she looked over to Gendry and feigned surprise.

"Oh, Gendry, I didn't even see you there. I see you've already met my boyfriend Jaqen."

Glaring between them, Gendry shook his head and stormed off with a terse, "I should go."

As Arya watched him walk back to the house, Jaqen turned back to look across the garden, smiling to himself. This was going to be a _very_ interesting week.

* * *

"You two must be exhausted from your flight. Let me show you to your room so you can set your things down."

They were ushered upstairs by their enthusiastic hostess, and Arya resisted the urge to complain when her mother opened the door to her childhood bedroom.

"Here we are..." Catelyn took their suitcases from them and set them down before waving them inside and giving Jaqen a conspiratorial smile with just a hint of disappointment. "This is Arya's old room. I assure you, you aren't the first boy that she's had in here."

Arya flopped down on the bed and glared at her mother. "You know I can still hear you right, mom?"

"Of course, dear." Catelyn said dismissively before meeting Jaqen's easy smile. "Now I'll just leave you two alone for a bit. Come on down whenever you're ready." With that, she retreated, closing the door behind them, and a heavy silence quickly fell over the room.

Jaqen quietly explored while Arya remained on her bed, one arm slung across her eyes, only speaking when he reached the bed again. "I suppose I'll sleep on the floor then, my dear?"

She snorted and moved her arm so she could look at him. "What? You afraid that I'll jump your bones if I wake up next to you in the morning? Bed's big enough for two. Don't worry about me. I think I can keep my hands off the goods. Paying extra isn't worth it...darling."

Though a part of her had hoped he would be offended by the comment, he merely smirked and began to remove his shirt. Arya balked, throwing her arm back across her face.

"Um, what the hell do you think you're doing?"

She could practically hear the growing amusement in his words when he replied, and she swallowed thickly when she heard the telltale thud of fabric against the carpet.

"I was going to take a shower. Clean off the smell of the airplane and the copious amounts of alcohol that your sister's guests were consuming. Is that alright with you?"

Huffing loudly, Arya turned to face the window and stared out it sulkily. "Sure. Do whatever you want."

He chuckled audibly at that and she felt her eyes wandering to the faint outline of his reflection in the window. Quickly closing them again, she waited until she heard the shower start and the curtain pull back into place before turning back around.

His shadow was barely visible through the light fabric and she gnawed absently on her bottom lip before sighing.

"So...do you do weddings a lot?"

A few seconds passed in silence before she heard a response. "What? Just come in here, I can't hear you over the water."

Arya hesitated for a moment before rising from the bed and making her way into the bathroom, eyeing the shower curtain warily before settling on the toilet and repeating her question. "Weddings. Do you do them a lot?"

"Oh. No, actually. I've never done a wedding before this," Jaqen replied. "More fancy fundraisers and things. In general, I'm just hired for company."

"You mean when you aren't prostituting yourself?"

He sighed heavily and Arya tensed when the shower curtain rustled, ready to escape if he emerged. "I don't _prostitute_ myself. Even if I do get paid to sleep with someone, it's rarely really about the sex. They're just lonely, and need to feel desired again."

Arya snorted. "Yeah? That what you tell yourself so you can sleep at night?"

The water shut off abruptly and Jaqen's arm reached out to grab a towel. Despite her better judgment, Arya remained, and when he pushed back the curtain to reveal his slender, well-muscled torso, it took a few seconds before she could think to turn around.

"I try not to judge the people who seek out my services."

Recognizing his statement as the jab at her that it was, she failed to register the soft thud of his towel and whirled around to glare at him, getting an eyeful of his wet, naked body instead. She gaped at him for a moment as he smirked in amusement before jabbing her finger toward the door. "Get out."

He frowned and reached down to grab his towel again, forcing Arya to snap her eyes shut. "Me? You're the one who came in here and just started attacking my work. You should—"

" _OUT!"_

* * *

When Jaqen finished brushing his teeth and returned to the bedroom, he found Arya tucked beneath the covers with a scowl on her face and a line of pillows across the middle of the bed.

He cocked an eyebrow and sat down on the opposite side. "I thought you said I had nothing to worry about."

"You don't," she replied, her gaze firmly on the ceiling.

"Then...why the barricade?"

She shrugged and looked at him just long enough to glare before turning on her side, facing away from him once more. "I don't know if I trust you."

He held back a laugh at that, but didn't argue further, merely flipping off the lamp on the bedside table and fumbling beneath the blankets as his eyes adjusted to the light.

It had been just long enough for him to begin to fall asleep when Arya spoke.

"Do you think he'll want me back?"

Jaqen sighed. "I think he already does."

She rolled over at that and he could hear the piqued interest in her tone. "Why? Did he say something about me?"

"Just a hunch. Any man would be lucky to have you."

After that, the room was silent.

* * *

"Hey, Jaqen, you up for a game?"

Sandor held up a football as he ducked in the doorway and Jaqen glanced at Arya for permission before nodding and setting aside the book he had been reading. "Sure."

"Great. You can be on my team."

Arya got up and followed along behind them, smiling triumphantly when she saw Gendry on the lawn with the other men. After her and Jaqen's brief conversation the night before, she believed more than ever that she would be able to win him back.

Picking a spot along the deck railing, she quickly ran her fingers through her hair and tied her plaid shirt higher on her torso to reveal a little more of her already exposed midriff.

"I'll cheer you on, babe," she called toward Jaqen, who gave her a grin and a thumbs up. It almost looked genuine.

Gendry looked over and offered a small smile, but she pretended not to notice, staring dreamily at her hired escort instead and blowing him a kiss. His eyes immediately narrowed and flicked between her and Jaqen before his jaw clenched tightly.

After establishing both the teams and the rules, the 'game' began, and it wasn't long before Sandor's team made the first point, as was to be expected considering the size of her soon to be brother-in-law. Cheering, she waved Jaqen over and she leaned over the railing to give him a kiss before whispering beside his ear. "Lose."

His eyes were narrowed when he pulled away and he returned her gaze without comment before returning to the field.

When the game began again, Jaqen took on the role of aggressive offense for his team, and with each point they scored, Arya's cheers grew weaker, and Gendry's expression grew darker. By the time Sandor, Robb, and Jaqen were high-fiving to their victory, Gendry looked about ready to explode, and because her anger at Jaqen's disobedience left her feeling spiteful, Arya ran across the lawn, leaping into her 'boyfriend's' waiting arms and peppering his face with kisses. When she looked back, Gendry was already walking up the deck stairs to the house, his fist connecting with one of the wooden posts for good measure.

Her feeling of triumph was momentary though, as Jaqen gently turned her face back to him and molded his lips to hers, kissing her deeply. When he pulled away, Arya's cheeks were flushed and her chest was heaving slightly with each breath. Eyes dark, Jaqen smiled cheekily and gave her another quick kiss before walking toward the house and slapping a hand firmly across her ass.

"I'll let you have that one for free."

* * *

"Are you sure that you don't want to go shopping with us, Arya?"

Sansa's heavily painted lips were pursed in a dramatic pout, but Arya shook her head nonetheless. "Sorry, sis. I'll be getting more than enough of all of you in just a few hours. I think I'll take advantage of this lull in activity and spend some time with my boyfriend. You girls have fun for me though."

The squealed response made her cringe and Jaqen walked with her to the car they had rented, one arm slung casually around her hips.

"You're saying that more easily now," he commented absently as he opened her door for her and then moved to the driver's side.

Arya shrugged, turning and fastening her seatbelt to avoid his gaze. "I've always been a pretty good liar."

He didn't respond to that, and kept his eyes on the driveway instead to ensure that all of Sansa's already tipsy friends stayed out of the way of the car. Once safely on the road again, Arya looked over at him.

"Have you ever fallen for a client before?"

His eyebrows rose slightly and he glanced briefly in her direction before shaking his head. "No. That's not a part of my job."

"But...how many of them want to sleep with you?"

"More than have the money to," he replied evenly.

"You have women falling all over you, and you've shared a bed with more than a few in your life. How can you sleep with them and feel nothing at all?"

He sighed at that, and kept his gaze on the road for a long moment before meeting her eyes. "I learned to separate my feelings from my work a long time ago." He pulled into a parking spot outside the small restaurant where they were to have lunch before adding, "And what I do…it isn't about me. It's about you."

Arya frowned and freed herself from her seat, not even bothering to look for traffic as she moved to meet him at the driver's side door. "What do you mean?"

He sighed again and stepped out, closing the door behind him and leaning against it. "I mean that you're the one who hired me. I'm here because of you, not because of me. I'm here to be everything that you desire, whatever the situation, whatever the needs. My job is to make you feel like you deserve to be loved, and that you're an attractive, desirable woman who has no worries about winning back her ex-boyfriend."

Arya put her hands on her hips and cocked an eyebrow at him. "Yeah? Show me."

Jaqen looked at her for a long moment before replying. "Close your eyes."

"What?"

He repeated it, softer than before. "Close your eyes."

Reluctantly, Arya did as she was told, and she tensed when she felt his warm breath against her face.

"Relax," he breathed. "I'm not going to kiss you."

After a moment, she acquiesced, her hands dropping to her sides and the tension slowly leaving her frame. She could hear Jaqen smile as he leaned in, his lips grazing the shell of her ear.

"He's going to be so sorry he left you, so stop worrying about it. Forget what happened between you, and just remember what an incredible woman you are." One of his warm palms moved to her chin and she leaned instinctively into the touch. "If you do that, then he'll have no trouble realizing what he lost."

She could feel his mouth as it moved past her neck and for a moment she wished it would land and she could feel his lips against the sensitive skin. It had been nearly long enough to leave her mortified when she realized that he had moved back against the car, and her eyes fluttered open, meeting his inscrutable gaze.

"Holy shit..." she breathed, one finger moving absently to brush against her lips. "You're worth every penny."

* * *

"Oh my _god_ , Arya! _That's_ your boyfriend?"

Arya sighed and nodded at an already very drunk Margaery Tyrell. Before she could reply, however, Myranda stepped up and threw an arm around Jaqen's shoulder, downing what certainly wasn't her first shot of the evening.

"Can you even believe that our little Arya gets to fuck this guy?" When Arya blushed and opened her mouth to protest, Randa's expression turned serious. "No, really, you should give God a bottle of wine or a quiche or something."

Jaqen's laughter only served to embarrass her further, but for once, Sansa came to the rescue, swaying drunkenly to her sister's side and shoving a martini into her empty hands.

"Arya! You're here! And Jaqen...you should stay with us! We're going to be more fun than the men anyway."

Still laughing, the escort untangled himself from Myranda before shaking his head. "Thank you for inviting me to join you in this…timeless feminine ritual, but I really should be going. Your fiancé is expecting me, and I would hate to disappoint."

When the girls all voiced their displeasure, he took Arya's drink and raised it in the air, ignoring her momentary scowl.

"A toast before I go though. Here's to the husbands who've won you, the losers who've lost you, and the lucky bastards who've yet to meet you!"

A cheer went up as more alcohol went down and Jaqen gave Arya a wink and a kiss on the cheek before moving to the door with a final parting word.

"Good luck."

* * *

"I just...there's something about him I don't like."

Sandor snorted and took another drink of beer before following Gendry's gaze to where Jaqen stood at the edge of the room. "He's 9% body fat and fucking your ex-girlfriend."

Gendry glared at his friend before sighing and looking into his glass of whiskey. "I guess it just took me seeing her again to realize what I'd lost, you know? I didn't deserve her then."

"And you do now?"

Gendry laughed, too many drinks in to care too much that he had been insulted. "Aw, fuck you, man."

Sandor grunted and when Gendry retreated to mingle with a few of their other friends, Jaqen moved to take his place.

"So, Jaqen, it looks like you've finally tamed Arya, eh?"

The younger man chuckled and shrugged, taking the drink the bartender offered with a gracious smile. "I'm not sure if 'tamed' is exactly the right word, but she has kept me around for this long, so..." He shrugged again and Sandor nodded in understanding.

"She deserves a guy like you. Hasn't had the best of luck in the past, but it really seems like the two of you are in love."

Jaqen nodded slowly, taking a sip of his beer. "Yeah. It does, doesn't it?"

Too happy about his impending wedding to ask about Jaqen's cryptic answer, Sandor merely clapped him on the shoulder before moving to Gendry's side and throwing an arm around him. Both men were already well on their way to getting completely drunk.

Taking advantage of one of the rare moments that he had time to think, Jaqen sighed heavily and set aside his drink as he rubbed absently at his temple. When he had accepted Arya's payment, he truly hadn't had any idea what he would be getting into.

Now, he was caught in the middle of one of the most intricate webs of deceit that he had yet to build. Her family all loved him, and they were more than happy to see her 'settling down', while she was merely using him to try and win back the affections of her immature and standoffish ex-boyfriend. And he...to be honest, he still didn't even know what he thought of the petite, feisty woman who had hired him.

His train of thought was interrupted by a door opening on the floor above them, and a cheer rose from the men below as a line of scantily clad women descended the staircase. They were nearly halfway down when Sandor realized what was happening and bellowed angrily at his Best Man.

"I said no strippers, man! I promised Sansa!"

"They aren't strippers," Gendry said hastily, eyeing the short, dark-haired one at the front of the line. "They're just…dancers."

Sandor stared at him for a moment in disgust before shaking his head in disbelief and grabbing his jacket off the back of his chair and nodding toward Jaqen. "Come on, man. Let's get out of here."

* * *

"Woohoo! Who's ready for the best fuckin' bachelorette party of our lives?"

Sansa blushed at her friend's language, but took the drink that was shoved at her and knocked it back. Arya sat beside her and ordered a drink of her own, gulping it down as she tried desperately to forget the way that Jaqen's words from earlier had affected her. It had been strange feeling wanted, even if it was just a lie.

Not long after she had been asked to be the Maid of Honor, the bachelorette party had come up in conversation and Arya had swiftly delegated its planning to Randa. Now that the night had come, she was even more relieved that she had made that decision.

That being said, the hostess for the night was already far too drunk for her own good, and while she talked loudly enough when sober, her voice was enough to shatter eardrums after a few too many drinks. When she leaned forward to address the bartender, Arya automatically reached for another drink and leaned away.

"Oh my god, Harry? Sans! This is Harry. God, do you remember him? You two like, dated in high school, and then we totally hooked up when you dumped him for Sandor? Do you remember that?"

Sansa nodded, blushing furiously, and gave the equally embarrassed Harry a weak smile.

"God, you're _hot_! Why did I break up with you, again?"

Harry mumbled something under his breath, and Arya got his attention to order a third drink before Randa could mortify him any further. He made it with a thankful smile, then looked shyly at Sansa when she slid her empty glass across the bar.

"You look good."

She smiled back before thanking him and then lapsing into a heavy silence. After a moment, she turned to Arya and spoke. "I don't know if I can do this."

"Do what? Deal with the stripper that Myranda has no doubt hired?"

Sansa smiled weakly but shook her head. "No... _this_. The-the wedding. The marriage. All of this."

Arya frowned, setting her drink down on the bar. "Sans…what are you saying? Of course you can. You've been waiting for this day your whole life. And you and Sandor couldn't possibly be any more in love."

"I know that. I do. But...seeing you and Jaqen together has made me remember what it was like when we first started dating. Before the…flowers, and the color schemes, and the cake tasting and the guest lists and the abstinence. _God_ , Arya, our mother pulled me aside last night and gave me a talk about what to expect on my wedding night! The most Sandor and I have managed since we've been here was a quickie in the backseat of his car. I've never been so horny in my life!"

Arya made a face and stuck a finger in her mouth. "TMI, Sans."

Sansa rolled her eyes and sighed dramatically. "At least she put you and Jaqen in the same room back home. Sandor's in the guest room off of the basement because Mom thinks I'm still a virgin! If the wedding wasn't this weekend I'd just set her straight so I could let off some steam."

Trying her best not to laugh at her sister's misfortune, Arya gave Sansa a sympathetic smile and put a hand on her shoulder. "Don't worry, and don't think about that tonight, alright? This is supposed to be your last night of freedom." She took a shot and then slammed the glass down on the counter. "Enjoy it!"

* * *

"Stop the car!"

When the chauffeur obeyed, the car lurched slightly and a round of drunken laughter rose from the backseat as the women found themselves tangled together from the sudden movement.

"Arya, what are you doing?"

Ignoring her sister, she grabbed her purse from the floor of the limo and crawled to the door, letting herself into the cold night air. Just in from the corner sat an ATM and it was there that she staggered, reaching out her hands every few steps to steady herself.

"Arya!"

Waving the cries away with a hand, she pulled her debit card from her purse and selected the maximum withdrawal amount. The bills that came out were new and crisp, and as she repeated the action, they made an impressive addition to her wallet. It was already bulging when she realized she had lost track of the amount and since she couldn't remember how much she'd need anyway, she stopped, dropping the card back into her purse and staggering over to the car.

The door flew open as she approached it and Myranda stepped out, blowing kisses at her friends inside the car as she backed away, shoes in hand.

"I'm just going to walk from here, my hotel's just around the corner. Don't you worry about me, girls, you just have fun! This was a great night! A fucking _great_ night!"

* * *

Arya's keys jangled ineffectively against the front door lock for a few minutes before she finally managed to get them in and stumble inside. The house was quiet, and she took a moment to regain her balance before heading for the stairs.

The door at the top was closed, but when she opened it, she found an open pair of dark blue eyes meeting her gaze. The swarm of butterflies in her stomach fluttered once more, but the amount of alcohol she had consumed was enough to suppress her nerves as she reached for the bottom of her top.

It had made it onto the floor and she was fumbling with the button on her shorts when Jaqen spoke.

"What are you doing?"

Shaking her head, she lifted a finger to her lips and stripped down to her underwear before climbing onto the bed and crawling over to him.

"Arya..." There was a hint of warning in his tone, but he made no move to stop her, and when she lowered her lips to his, he didn't hesitate in returning the kiss. Her already foggy mind grew muddled as his tongue swept between her parted lips and his hand smoothed across the curve of her back.

Stopping by the ATM was definitely the right decision.

Flipping her over onto her back, he pulled off his shirt before returning to her, his lips on her throat as she tangled her fingers in his hair.

"Relax," he breathed, and the sound of his voice, low and rough with desire, had the tension melting from her limbs. Forgetting about Gendry, and the wedding, and any lingering doubts, she wound her legs around his hips and pulled him to her, losing herself in the feeling of him as their lips met again.

* * *

Arya woke up the next morning to an empty bed, a headache, and absolutely no recollection of anything past the first hour of Sansa's bachelorette party.

Groaning, she tried to roll from the bed, but the motion set her head spinning and she flopped back down again. A few seconds later she opened her eyes and was met with the sight of her clothes, laying rumpled on the carpet.

Slowly, she lifted the covers and then sighed heavily. Of course. She had gone to an ATM after Sansa's party. Lifting her wallet from the bedside table, she looked inside to see that all of the money she had withdrawn was still there, and she wasn't sure if she should be relieved or disappointed.

The door opened and she hastily shoved the wallet beneath the blankets as Jaqen walked in with a tray of food, smiling at her when she squinted in his direction.

"Good morning. How are you feeling?"

"Like shit," she croaked, taking the water he offered and sitting up so he could set the tray on her lap. When she smiled at him, he leaned forward to kiss her, but she pulled back.

"Jaqen...what happened last night?"

He smiled slightly and raised his eyebrows, but then his face fell when he realized that she truly didn't remember. Straightening up, he smiled tersely and shook his head. "Nothing."

Nothing. Okay. Good. That was...good.

Nodding, she smiled up at him and took the mug of coffee from the tray before setting it to the side and wrapping herself in the sheet. "Thanks for the coffee," she said quietly, shuffling away toward the bathroom.

Once inside, she dropped the sheet and turned on the water. So nothing had happened. And that was good, she told herself once more. She could keep her money, and it would be far less awkward when she and Jaqen parted ways.

The sound of the shower curtain covered the sound of the door opening behind her, and she was just ducking her head under the water when the curtain was yanked back. Gasping, she threw her arms over her chest and glared at Jaqen as he held up her wallet.

"Was this for last night?"

Arya felt her face flush and she stammered for a moment. "I...no. It can't be, because, nothing happened."

His expression darkened at her blatant lie. "I thought I told you that if I wanted you to pay, I would have asked for the money beforehand. It's all still here, so obviously, I didn't do that, no matter what did or didn't happen between us."

Arya avoided his gaze and bit her lip. "I just...I didn't want you to think that I was expecting anything for free, or, that I was expecting anything at all." She met his gaze again, her blush deepening. "I mean, I guess I was expecting _something_ , or I wouldn't have taken out that money on the way back..."

Damn it, why did just looking at him make her feel so flustered?

Shaking his head in disbelief, Jaqen held up the wallet once more. "Well, just so you know, you're three hundred short." And with that, he tossed it beside the sink and stalked out.

* * *

Thankfully, the days leading up to the wedding were busy for all involved, and in the midst of the chaos, nobody noticed the sudden tension between Arya and her supposed boyfriend. For their own part, they mostly avoided each other, dodging the events that each was slated to participate in, and spending their nights in sullen silence.

When they were finally forced back together again, it was two days before the wedding, for Sandor and Sansa's dancing lessons. Because her fiancé was so reluctant to go in the first place, Sansa had all but begged them to come along, and in the end, Arya had set aside her pride and agreed, though neither she nor Jaqen was particularly happy about it.

"Do we really have to do this, Sansa?" Sandor grumbled as they waited for their instructor to check on the space they would be using.

"Yes," she replied simply, patting his hand where it rested against her waist.

Jaqen came to her defense, speaking up from his chair in the lobby. "Dancing lessons are important for a wedding, Sandor. Everybody's going to be watching you two while you dance, and if you trip in the middle, it's only going to take everyone's attention away from how beautiful your new bride is."

Arya rolled her eyes and avoided his gaze. If only they knew that she was paying him to say things like that.

A moment later, the dance teacher returned, smiling politely. "Looks like we're ready for you. Go ahead and go on in and we'll get started."

Sandor and Sansa took the lead, and when they entered the ballroom, the instructor took them aside, giving them a speech about how important their wedding dance would be. Sandor looked incredulous, but he obeyed when she told them to begin regardless.

"Like it or not, we're still a couple until the wedding's over," Jaqen gritted out through a forced smile as he moved to her side and placed a hand lightly on her hip. Glaring at him, she grabbed his hand and yanked his arm fully around her back, pressing herself against him.

Eyes narrowed, he accepted her unspoken challenge and pulled her close, his hand grasping hers firmly as they began to move in rhythm. He seemed hesitant to do much more than sway to the beat, and Arya cocked an eyebrow at him.

"What's wrong, Jaqen?" She taunted. "Two left feet?"

His expression darkened and he effortlessly swept her into a low dip by way of reply, pulling her back up just as easily in a spin that landed her flush against his chest. She could feel his heartbeat against her back, and his breath was warm against her neck, sending a shiver down her spine. Angry at her own reaction, she stomped hard onto his foot and felt a swell of satisfaction when he let out a muffled curse.

When he spun her out again to return her to their original position, the dress Sansa had forced her into swirled around her knees, and she didn't miss Jaqen's appreciative gaze as his eyes wandering to her exposed legs.

Her wounded pride from their fight ebbed slightly at the evident desire in his appraisal, and when his eyes met hers again, she smirked knowingly. For appearances, he kept his features hostile, but just as he pulled her against him once more, she caught a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

Across the room, Sandor missed an attempted dip and Sansa landed on the floor with a thud. Her cry of surprise and dismay caught their attention, and when they looked to the commotion, they quickly avoided Sansa's murderous gaze. Unable to contain her amusement, Arya giggled and then tried to muffle the sound with the back of her hand, prompting Jaqen to laugh as well. Much to her sister's chagrin, they were unsuccessful in hiding their mirth, and they broke apart, laughing loudly.

It was only when the dance instructor pursed her lips in their direction that they composed themselves once more, and as they moved into position once more, Jaqen paused for a moment, pulling her into a tight embrace.

Hiding her smile against his shoulder, Arya hugged him back.

* * *

They were sitting alone on the steps of the dance instruction building, waiting for Sandor and Sansa to rejoin them, when Jaqen cleared his throat.

"Do you remember me telling you that I had never done a wedding before?" He asked, and when Arya nodded, he continued, a bit haltingly. "Well, it's not that I've never been asked. I just...never said yes."

Arya raised her eyebrows and looked over at him, meeting his gaze for a moment before responding. "Then why did you say yes to me?"

Frowning, Jaqen shrugged slightly. "I don't know. I guess there was just something in your voice on the phone that day."

Arya snorted. "Desperation?"

His expression remained serious and he stared at her for a long moment before he finally replied. "No. I think it was hope."

* * *

The Stark vacation house where the happy couple had decided to house their wedding party for the weekend was just as extravagant as the home that they had been raised in. The home was nestled amid a sprawling fifteen acres, just off a lake where Ned spent much of his time fishing and boating.

As Ned and Catelyn showed their guests to each of their rooms and Sansa and Sandor snuck off to the wine cellar for some time alone, Arya and Jaqen got settled, enjoying the peace and quiet while it lasted.

"You know what really pisses me off?" Arya asked, sprawling across the bed as Jaqen began unpacking.

He raised his eyebrows as he moved his clothes to the closet. "That your sister is getting married and your ex is the best man?"

Arya ignored him. "You know practically everything about me, and I don't know anything about you but your name and your job."

Sighing, he abandoned his suitcase and joined her on the bed. "I'm allergic to mayonnaise, I have a degree in psychology from Emory, I hate caviar, and I think I'd miss you even if we never met."

Arya felt her heartbeat quicken and she looked over at Jaqen. His dark blue eyes held her gaze without wavering and she took a moment before replying quietly. "I don't think I've thanked you."

Smiling, he closed his eyes and laced his fingers behind his head. "Don't thank me yet. There's still a lot that could happen in the next 24 hours."

* * *

"I'm getting married in the morning!" A very drunk Sandor scooped his soon to be sister-in-law from her seat at the bar and swung her around before setting her back down again, earning a half-hearted glare.

"Yes," she huffed as she straightened her dress and returned to her drink. "To my sister. Although I think you're just excited to get to have sex with her again."

Sandor shrugged his shoulders slightly, still grinning stupidly. "Marriage does have its perks."

When Arya snorted, his smile faltered slightly and he looked around in confusion. "By the way, have you seen Sansa? I thought she might be in here with you."

"Jaqen, you seem to have a way with women," Ned piped up from behind the bar. "Why don't you see if you can't rustle up the bride? I'll see that my future son-in-law stays away from our alcohol for the rest of the evening."

Nodding, he stood and kissed Arya lightly on the top of the head before setting about his search. In the end, it was the boathouse where he found her, her voice carrying out from behind the open door.

"Why are you bringing this up now? She's here with Jaqen!"

"I just...Sansa, I have to know—"

She was standing on the far side of the room, glaring angrily up at the best man as he held onto one of her wrists. When Jaqen pushed the door open the rest of the way, she yanked her hand away and crossed her arms, sighing heavily.

"...if I should wear the red tie, or the blue," Gendry finished lamely, before shaking his head and angrily storming out.

Jaqen stood in silence, waiting for Sansa to explain what he had walked in on. Finally, she tore herself away from the view of the lake, sitting on one of the couches.

"Arya thought that he was going to propose, and so I did what any good sister would do. It was just before their three year anniversary, we were all out here to celebrate, and while she was away at the grocery store, I went to ask him what he had planned. Instead, I found him…"

She trailed off and shook her head in defeat. "I couldn't tell her, Jaqen. I love her too much."

He sighed, but nodded in understanding, his heart heavy as he realized the weight of the secret that Sansa had been forced to carry, and that he too would now have to keep from Arya. Client or not, he had come to care too much for her to risk her being hurt.

"You have to promise me, Jaqen," Sansa pleaded, her blue eyes welling with tears. "That you won't tell her. She can't know."

His expression grim, he nodded once more. "I won't. I promise."

* * *

"Arya!" Sansa appeared in the doorway of their father's study, looking panicked. "I can't find my lipstick. Do you have any I could borrow for the rehearsal dinner?"

Sighing, Arya hefted herself off of the leather couch, hesitating for a brief second before kissing Jaqen on the cheek. "You men enjoy yourselves while I get lost in the sea of lace and tulle."

Ned chuckled as his eldest daughter dragged her sister away and then turned back to the newspaper before him.

Jaqen sat in silence for a long moment, swirling the olive in his martini around the bottom of the glass. The pages of the newspaper had turned twice before he spoke.

"Sir?"

Ned looked up and smiled. "Just Ned, please. I insist."

Jaqen nodded and began again. "Ned, I have a question for you, and it may not make much sense, but I'd like you to answer it honestly."

Raising his eyebrows, Ned folded up the newspaper and set his glasses down beside it. "Go on."

Taking a deep breath, Jaqen steeled his resolve. "I'd like to ask for your permission to date your daughter."

A brief silence passed between them before Ned finally replied. "Well, of course. But...I thought you already were."

Smiling to himself, Jaqen nodded absently and drained the rest of his drink.

Yes, everybody was beginning to believe they were.

* * *

"Hey, Catelyn, can I steal your daughter for a moment?" Both women looked to the door and under the weight of their combined stare, Gendry shrank back slightly.

"You wasted so many years of her life already, what could a few more minutes hurt?" Catelyn replied tartly, turning away and opening a bottle of wine.

Arya sighed. "Thanks, Mom, but it's fine. I can handle this on my own."

Leaving her mother behind, she ducked out of the room and crossed her arms over her chest. "Yes?"

Gendry cleared his throat nervously and tugged absently at his tie. "Well, uh, I just feel like I needed to talk to you." When she merely raised her eyebrows, he continued. "You know how sometimes people do things, that maybe, they...they had hoped that they wouldn't...but then they...they weren't who they wanted to be, and..."

"What are you trying to say, Gendry?" Arya asked with obvious confusion, looking over his shoulder as Jaqen rounded the corner and then stopped short.

"I'm trying to tell you something important, Arry," he responded irritably. "And you're not even paying attention."

"Mmhm. Listen, I've got to go. I'll catch you at the rehearsal dinner, okay?"

Moving out from between him and the wall, she walked over to Jaqen, her smile faltering when she saw the frown on his lips. "Hey, is everything alright? You look upset."

His eyes moved to meet hers and he nodded. "Yeah." Taking one of her hands, he smiled at her softly and pressed a soft kiss to her palm. "Everything's perfect."

* * *

"Now, Jaqen, I'm not sure if you've heard the story of how Sandor and Sansa started dating."

The bride-to-be groaned and covered her face with her hands. "Mom, no...please don't do this."

Smiling, Catelyn shook her head. "Oh no, I think it's time we truly make Jaqen a part of the family. Arya, why don't you start it?"

Grinning at her sister's embarrassment, Arya took a sip of her wine before beginning the story. "Well, it's the fall of 2009, and Sansa is just starting her sophomore year of college. Sandor is already on his way to a master's degree, and finds himself as a teaching assistant for a statistics class. This is when Sansa was still pursuing business over design."

"And on the first day of her discussion," Catelyn continued, taking over. "She walks in and sees this older man in the front row, tall, and handsome. She had long since left a string of fraternity boys behind, so she thinks to herself that she might try to ask him if he would be willing to study with her for the semester."

"But when class starts," Arya said with a grin. "He gets up starts reviewing what they'd learned in lecture, and poor teenage Sansa realizes that the man she's got the hots for is her TA."

Sandor held up a hand to stop her and finished his drink before speaking. "This is the best part. I have to tell it. So halfway through semester, we're in discussion, and I go up to the front of the room, and I start doing examples of god only knows what, and I turn to the students and ask for someone to give me a number, just any number. And Sansa, who had hardly spoken two words in the first eight weeks, just starts rattling off a list of numbers, so I'm trying to get them all down and then once they're written, I realize that—"

"The numbers were my phone number," Sansa finished in defeat, her cheeks flush with embarrassment and a healthy amount of red wine. "I don't know how I got up the nerve to do it, and I ran out of the classroom as soon as we were finished, but then, that night, who called me up and asked me out for coffee but Mr. Clegane, as I still called him at the time."

Jaqen smiled as the couple leaned in for a kiss. "That's a good story. I'm glad you found each other."

When they pulled apart, Sansa rested her head against Sandor's shoulder and smiled at her younger sister. "Why don't you tell us the story of how you two met?"

"Why don't I go get some more wine first?" Arya countered, rising from the table. "I'll be right back."

As she made her way to the wine cellar, she tried to suppress her sudden disappointment. Her family all loved Jaqen so much, and they had no clue that not only did they not have a good first meeting, but that within the next 48 hours, they would be parting again, for good.

She was just beginning to search for a bottle of white wine when she heard footsteps from the stairs above, and a moment later, Gendry entered the cellar.

"Hey," he said, moving to her side and shoving his hands into his pockets.

"Hey," she replied easily, her thoughts still on Jaqen.

"I thought that maybe, we could...that...dammit," Gendry swore, shaking his head in frustration. "I'm sorry. I didn't think this would be so hard. I just…I feel like, I owe you an explanation. For the way things ended between us."

"Hey, just relax," Arya replied with a small smile as she moved to another row of bottles. "You're fine. I promise." When he sighed in relief, she continued. "But I should probably admit...I brought Jaqen with me to torture you. Slowly. This entire week. But then...I don't know. Something happened, and, I hope you don't take this wrong way, but," she straightened up and put a hand lightly on his arm. "I'm just...over... _us_. I'm just tired of all of it, our whole story. So I don't need an explanation. Let's just go upstairs and watch all of our friends get drunk."

Picking two bottles, she smiled at him and headed for the stairs once more. She was nearly to the top when he spoke again.

"I slept with someone else."

It grew so quiet that Arya could almost hear her heartbeat, and she turned around slowly to meet his gaze.

"What?"

"I...I slept with someone else. While we were dating. Sansa caught me, and that's why I broke it off with you. We started seeing each other after, but then, realized it was stupid and it felt wrong, and..." He trailed off and then searched her features for any sign of a reaction. "God, Arya, say something. Please?"

Turning back around, she walked out of the wine cellar without saying a word, leaving him behind. She had never felt so stupid and humiliated in her life. $6000 spent on a man to make her ex jealous, when he had never cared about her in the first place.

When she returned to the dining room, Myranda caught the look on her face and stood up to meet her, her eyes moving between Arya and Gendry.

"My god. He told you didn't he?"

Arya could hardly recognize her own voice when it came out, quiet and shaky. "You knew?"

Passing off the bottles, she continued to walk, picking up her pace until she threw herself into Jaqen's waiting arms.

She heard the sound of heels and then her sister's voice, hushed but furious. "You promised, Jaqen. Why would you just tell her like that?"

Arya felt her heart stop and she raised to head to find Sansa frowning at Jaqen while Myranda hurried over to correct her. His eyes were filled with pity and regret when she met his gaze and she slowly pushed him away, shaking her head.

Not only had Sansa known, and Myranda, but Jaqen...he had known what a fool she was the whole time...

Her eyes welling with tears, she turned and took off running, desperate to get away from it all.

She could hear Jaqen calling after her, but she didn't slow down. Her chest grew tight as she struggled to breathe, and when she stopped to gasp for air, he caught up to her.

"Leave me alone," she cried. "You knew and you didn't tell me. I can't believe I trusted you!"

"Come on, Arya—"

"How could you not tell me?"

He shrugged helplessly. "What did you expect me to say?"

Arya shook her head, furiously blinking away her tears. "You let me make a complete fool of myself. You lied to me. But I guess I shouldn't really be surprised, because that is what you do. That's who you are. You're a liar."

Narrowing his eyes, Jaqen stepped toward her, his expression incredulous. "You're judging _me_? Boy, that's a good one. You're just going to stand there and point the finger at me? The guy that _you_ hired to pretend to be your boyfriend."

Sniffing, Arya shook her head, crossing her arms tightly over her chest. "You're right. You're right. I was so desperate to have everyone believe that I was happy for once that I paid $6000 for a lie. And…at the end of the day, the only one who ended up falling for it was me. I wish I could say it was worth it."

Jaqen scoffed. "Fine. Go ahead, Arya. Hate me. You know, I think you're running out of steam on the whole Gendry thing anyway, so maybe you can hold onto this one long enough to ruin your next relationship."

He shook his head and walked off, leaving her there angry, hurt, and alone.

* * *

Arya was lying in bed, staring at the empty closet where Jaqen's clothes had been, when there was a knock at the door and Sansa stepped inside.

"Hey."

"Hey." Arya replied flatly, still staring straight ahead at the wall in front of her.

Sansa was quiet for a moment, and remained by the door. "I just...I wanted to apologize. For keeping it a secret from you for so long. I wanted to tell you, just not the night before my wedding."

Arya snorted and rolled over to meet her sister's eyes. "You just thought you would invite him back into my life after knowing what he had done, because it made your wedding better. Sure, he's an asshole, and he broke your sister's heart, but he'll make a handsome addition to the wedding photos."

Sansa's lip trembled and she shook her head. "Arya—"

"Oh, don't worry," she snapped. "Your wedding will be perfect. Tomorrow, I'll smile and I'll say all the right things, and maybe someday I'll forgive you, but tonight, right now, I'm not going to pretend that it's alright."

She was out of $6000, Jaqen had disappeared forever, and she would have to stand across from Gendry in the morning and pretend that she wasn't broken. No, things were definitely not alright.

* * *

It was the perfect morning for a wedding. The sky was clear and blue, and in all the excitement, the drama from the night before was forgotten. For the most part.

Jaqen had long since gone, and Arya felt hollow inside, but she was the very picture of support as she smiled and posed beside her sister for photos. Sansa looked radiant as always, and Arya just pretended to be happy for her, imagining that each loving look passed between the couple didn't feel like a knife to her chest.

The dressing room of the church was thick with perfume and chatter as the bridesmaids hovered around Sansa, trying to get her to look as perfect as possible before her walk down the aisle. It was after they had helped her into her dress and before the makeup touch-ups that Arya took her leave, sitting out back of the church in an attempt to clear her head.

She was picking the petals off of a flower in her bouquet when her father approached, lowering himself down beside her.

"I've been looking for you."

Arya smiled weakly and returned to the flower, unwilling to meet her father's gaze. He watched her silence for a moment before speaking again.

"So why did you let him go?"

Arya sighed and shook her head. "It's complicated, Dad."

"Ah, right," Ned said, nodding. "It probably wouldn't have worked out anyway, right?" He frowned slightly and then continued. "You know, I remember reading a very interesting article in the Times once that said every woman has the exact love life she wants. And you know what? I have to agree. But I refuse to believe that this is what you want, Arya."

He placed a hand on her knee and smiled. "Ever since you were little, you've always cared about what other people think, though you tried your hardest not to show it. But come on. What do _you_ think? Is he the one for you?"

Arya bit her lip and pondered her father's words before nodding, slowly.

Ned's smile widened and he handed her a set of keys. "Then go get him. Sandor convinced him to stay in the boathouse overnight. If you hurry, you might still catch him."

Smiling, Arya took them and hugged him tightly before getting to her feet. "Do you have the keys to Sandor's car?"

Chuckling, he nodded and tossed them up to her. "Be careful with the cans."

As Arya drove from the church, cans rattling behind her, she thought about what her father had said. As much as she hated to admit it, maybe Jaqen had been right. Maybe the reason she had gone to him in the first place was because she knew that she had never really wanted to be happy with Gendry. Of course, it took $6000 and finding out that her ex was a cheater before she realized that over the course of a whirlwind weekend, she had fallen in love with someone else.

Parking the car outside the vacation home, she lifted the hem of her dress and ran to the boathouse, only to find it empty. It was only when she stopped to catch her breath that she saw the envelope on the table.

Written on the back, in Jaqen's handwriting, were two simple sentences. _'It's all here. Trust me.'_ Even without looking, she knew what she would find inside. $6000, in cash.

* * *

After leaving the money behind, Jaqen had taken their rental car and headed for his departing flight. Although Sandor had tried to convince him to stay, and given him the boathouse as temporary lodging, he knew he had to go. Arya had been clear about her feelings, and he had no right to try to change her mind.

He was nearly halfway to the airport when he realized that he was about to make the biggest mistake of his life. Nearly a decade as an escort and he had never done anything else but ask for pay up front, no matter how the evening or event played out. As selfish as he realized it made him, his empty wallet, if nothing else, was a testament to his feelings for the feisty young woman.

Swearing under his breath, he checked for traffic before yanking the wheel into a U-turn and starting back. There was no way that he could go back to his old life when he was in love with Arya Stark.

It was just as his surroundings began to look familiar again that he heard the sound of shouting, and a moment later, Sandor and Gendry appeared, tangled together on the ground and throwing punches. Evidently, Sansa had decided to tell her fiancé about his best friend's transgression.

"You bastard!"

"That's not fair!" Gendry whined, struggling to get away. "It was a mistake!"

"You cheated on my little sister!"

Gendry managed to free himself and took off, leaving Sandor to flail until he got to his feet again. Jaqen drove the car around alongside them, keeping even as they continued their chase.

"Sandor, just calm down!" Gendry begged. "We can talk about this!"

Shaking his head, Sandor slowed down a bit and looked over at Jaqen. "I look like a total idiot right now don't I?" When Jaqen nodded, he sighed and came to a stop, bending over to catch his breath.

"Get in the car, Sandor," Jaqen said, leaning across and pulling open the passenger side door. "He's halfway to California by now, and you have a wedding to get to."

* * *

"I've just made a mess out of everything now haven't I?" Sansa sniffed, wiping at the mascara that had run from her crying.

Silently, Arya handed over a box of tissues and took a seat beside her.

Taking one with a weak smile, Sansa blew her nose and then sighed heavily. "I'm so sorry, Arya. I really am. I know I should've told you, but I just love you so much and I didn't want you to get hurt. By trying to be a better sister, I turned out to be the worst one."

Arya shook her head. "You aren't the worst sister, Sansa. You're the best one I ever could've asked for, and I'm sorry for my part in all of this too."

Smiling, Sansa pulled her into a hug, but the sound of the door opening broke them apart. When she looked up, it was Jaqen in the doorway. Avoiding Arya's gaze, he looked to Sansa.

"I got your fiancé back for you, and I don't think you'll be seeing Gendry again anytime soon. You're up in ten minutes."

Nodding, Sansa wiped at her smeared makeup before squeezing her sister's hand and hurrying out.

Once she had gone, Arya stood up and walked over to Jaqen. "Hey, I—"

He shook his head, cutting her off. "Last night when we were fighting, I thought this was over. And I was going to leave you and just...take off. But, then I realized...I'd rather fight with you then make love with anyone else."

Stepping closer, he brought a hand to his chin and tilted her head up, meeting her gaze for a long moment before ducking down and kissing her deeply. Smiling against his lips, Arya kissed him back, enjoying the feel of their first real—and free—kiss.

After gently drawing his lips away from hers, he looked down at her. "I should get going."

Arya felt her heart drop and she shook her head. "What? No. You can't."

Jaqen raised his eyebrows and pulled away from her, going to the door. "I have to." He winked and then grinned. "I'm the new Best Man."

* * *

The wedding was a complete success in every way that it could have been. Sansa looked beautiful, the vows were sweet and heartfelt, and by the end, even Sandor himself was in tears.

For the reception, the guests had been reduced to content dessert-induced mumbling and Sandor and Sansa were dreamily feeding each other cake when Arya stood and clinked her glass for attention.

"Hello, all. As many of you know, my name is Arya, and I am the lovely bride's little sister. In that capacity, and as her Maid of Honor, I believe I am entitled to a speech. But this weekend's already been a wild ride, so I promise I'll keep it short, simple, and free of embarrassing childhood stories."

Sansa smiled up at her and she returned it before looking to her sister's new husband. "Sandor, there's no man in the world who knows how to love my big sister better than you do. You're the two luckiest people I know, and I know that you'll be two of the happiest as well. Take care of her, and be good to each other."

Arya was dragged into a tight hug when she sat back down and Sansa whispered quietly beside her ear. "Thank you."

"You're welcome, Sans. Anything for my big sister."

She was just finishing off the wine in her glass when Jaqen snuck up beside her. "Care to dance?"

Grinning, she took his hand and let him lead her to the floor. "It's a good thing we took those lessons."

Jaqen laughed. "Good for you. I already knew how to dance."

They smiled at each other and Arya stood on her toes to kiss him, taking full advantage of her ability to do so whenever she pleased without any ulterior motive. They were still deep in their embrace when she heard Myranda yell.

"Arya, look out!"

Pulling away quickly, she whirled around, just in time to catch the bouquet that her sister had thrown. Jaqen raised his eyebrows at her and she shrugged slightly, looking down at the collection of flowers.

Whether the tradition's meaning proved true or not, she had a feeling that neither of them would be ready for another wedding for quite a while yet.

But then again...why not?


	9. Need for Speed

**A/N:** Hello, all. Sorry about how long it's been, cause I know it's been too long. I can't promise that the break will be any shorter after this chapter, but I do promise that I won't just abandon this story, so no matter how long I might wait between chapters, there will always be another. Unless I say it's finished. But that'd be a long time from now. This is just something I wrote in honor of Valentine's Day cause it was an excuse to make myself write something, and I'm sorry about the title. I came up with it so I really deserve the blame, but my boyfriend did encourage its actual use, so...we'll split it. Anyway, I hope you like it, and I don't mean any offense to the idea of speed dating when I talk about it at the beginning. I just don't think it's the kind of thing that would really be Arya's...speed.  
Okay sorry I'm done now. Just read it and ignore me. Review if you want.

 **Disclaimer:** Everything belongs to George R. R. Martin.

 **Rating:** M for drinking and maybe language but I don't think so and suggestive themes.

* * *

Arya Stark was certainly no stranger to humiliation. With two older brothers, she really couldn't be. And yet, somehow she had sunk to a new low, and by her own hand no less.

She told herself that she was doing it to avoid Sandor and Sansa's nauseating PDA, but a small part of her was tired of spending every Valentine's Day without someone of her own. Even Rickon was taking some girl to his middle school's sorry attempt at a "formal", and she was, for yet another year, alone.

And so she stood at the front door of the local bar in a tight black dress that was perhaps a bit too presumptuous for the occasion and stared at the posted sign.

 _Valentine's Day Event: Speed Dating! Come thirsty and lonely, leave drunk and pretending you'll call!_

The resident bartender had seen her drinking alone on one too many nights and had insisted she attend, and to get him to shut up, she relented. At the very least, she could get a few free drinks out of the evening.

The bell above the door tinkled when she let herself in, but the bar was already crowded enough for the sound to be lost in the din, and she received no more than a cursory glance from a few of the prospective daters and a wave from Hot Pie behind the bar.

"Welcome, young lady!" A heavily cologned— _perfumed?_ —bald man swept over to greet her, his garishly festive suit jacket assaulting Arya's eyes and making her visibly cringe. "We'll be starting in twenty minutes! Just fill out this questionnaire while you wait and then hand it to me before you choose a seat so we can pair you with your best match at the end!"

Nodding vaguely, Arya took the paper and shrank away, retreating to the bar. With a heavy sigh, she plopped down on one of the stools and waved to Hot Pie for her usual before fishing a pen out of her purse and scribbling down her name.

Question one: what are you hoping to find at this event?

She rolled her eyes and sarcastically scrawled her reply. _A man._

Two: what is your drink of choice? _Scotch on the rocks._

The next few covered the basics: age, sexual preference, time passed since your last date, favorite food…and beyond those, began to get a bit more personal.

Question ten: Do you want children? _NO._ She was more than happy to leave that to Sansa.

Eleven: What is your favorite sex position?

Arya side-eyed the flamboyant proctor and wrinkled her nose. _Pervert._

Just as she set her pen down to answer, a man sat beside her. Self-conscious, she covered the paper with her arm and looked his way.

"Rum and coke, please."

He was handsome enough, she supposed, but she wasn't sure how she felt about a man who diluted his liquor with a soda as sub-par as Coca-Cola. If it had to be done, ginger ale was the way to go.

After taking a sip of his drink, he sighed and looked down at his own paper. After a moment, he shook his head.

"What are you hoping to find at this event?" He wrote down an answer before meeting her eyes. "I suppose ambiguous questions are the best way to find a date?"

Arya shrugged and removed her arm so he could see her reply. "I do lean toward ambiguous answers."

A strange look flashed in his eyes before he smiled and held up his own paper. In surprisingly neat cursive, it read: _a girl._

"Attention, everyone, please!" A loud clap brought their attention back to the bald man and when he gestured toward the tables that had been scooted together, they gathered their papers and drinks and shuffled over to the one closest, sitting across from each other.

"In case you haven't been to an event like this before," he began, "You're going to have three minutes with each of the ladies or gentlemen across the tables from you, to ask whatever you desire. At the end of three minutes, I will ring this bell." He did so for emphasis. "And then the people on the side closest to the bar will move one table to their left. At the end of the night, I will return your questionnaires to you and provide you with the name of the person with whom you are most compatible."

When Arya rolled her eyes, he caught the movement and added a slight addendum. "Of course, you are free to leave with whomever you choose, or no one at all, but when searching for a soul mate, compatibility _is_ key."

With that, he rang the bell once more, and the three minutes began.

"So what's your name, Rum and Coke?"

He smiled, and for a brief moment, not even his choice in drink could diminish the heat that flared in the pit of her stomach.

"Jaqen H'ghar. And you?"

"Arya Stark."

"And what is it that you do for a living, Jaqen H'ghar?" She had hastily looked up a list of recommended questions on the cab ride over, and the token career one had appeared on all of the ones she had skimmed.

"Contract killer," he replied without skipping a beat, his smile unwavering.

"Ah," Arya replied, fighting back a smirk of amusement. "Then I'm an exotic dancer."

He cocked an eyebrow at that. "If that dress can tell me anything, you'd make a good one." His gaze fell unabashedly to her breasts, and though she supposed she should feel somewhat chagrined, Arya felt nothing but satisfaction.

"Can you cook?"

His eyes rose again and he nodded. "Or so I've been told. You?"

Arya nodded in return. "Oh yes. My specialty is Michelina's "Wheels and Cheese". Been making that since elementary school."

Jaqen chuckled. "Sounds delicious." He paused to think for a moment before asking another question. "If you could meet anyone, dead or alive, who would it be?"

Arya smirked. "You looked up the question lists too didn't you?"

"Guilty as charged."

She grinned and then pondered it for a moment. "Freddie Mercury."

"Ah. A Queen girl then?"

Arya snorted. "Anybody would be lucky to stand in his presence, but yes. If you tell me you're not a Queen kind of guy, I think this conversation has to be over."

Even as she said it, the bell rang to announce the end of three minutes and she couldn't hide the disappointment that flashed across her features.

Jaqen stood and shrugged slightly. "I guess it is anyway. But if you have to know…" He leaned in close and for a brief moment, Arya thought that he might kiss her. Instead, his lips grazed her ear, sending a pleasant shiver down her spine. "I'm more of an AC/DC man."

With a smirk, he left her, and a younger man took his place, far taller and more muscular than his predecessor.

He smiled politely as he settled in his seat, and Arya forced herself to return it. His name was Gendry, and as they talked, she discovered that they had quite a bit in common. He was nice enough, she supposed, and she was not averse to a decent set of abs, but she didn't feel a "spark", and even as she answered his questions, she found her gaze slipping over to the next table. More than once, she found a pair of dark blue eyes returning her stare, and she flushed at the smirk that pulled at his lips.

The night passed more quickly than she would've imagined, and by the end she had talked to an Edric, Harry, Tommen, and Walder before she reached the last and their enthusiastic proctor returned their papers.

Downing her drink and returning the glass to the bar, she looked down at the sheet in her hand. _Gendry_ , it read. Several numbers were circled, and she had a sneaking suspicion that those were the ones which were most important to a couple's "compatibility". Her match with Gendry was a modest 80%, and listed at the top of the page were the percentages associated with the other attendees.

"12%," came a voice from beside her. She turned to see Jaqen leaning against the bar, and he sighed heavily. "I suppose that means we aren't soul mates then."

Arya shrugged and glanced down at his paper before tapping her finger against the number eleven. "Must be because we both like to be on top."

Jaqen smirked. "I'm not averse to compromise."

Smiling, Arya stayed silent. She could see Gendry searching the room, presumably for her, but Jaqen's voice caught her attention once more.

"As far as I'm concerned we're compatible. You fulfill what's most important to me."

She looked back and cocked an eyebrow. "Oh?"

Nodding, he held up his paper and pointed to the first question, and his answer to it. When Arya smiled, he continued. "What do you say? Can a man take a girl to dinner tomorrow night?"

Arya's smile grew and when she turned to go, her paper remained, ignored and forgotten.

"Yes. Yes he can."


	10. The Pursuit of Jaqen and Arya

**A/N:** Heya. So...I watched the movie _Leap Year_ with my boyfriend the other day, cause it's one of my mom's favorite movies and I assured him that he didn't want to see it with her and she wouldn't rest until he finally did. That being said, even though I've seen it so many times, I picked up more on the brief Irish folk tale (The Pursuit of Diarmuid and Gráinne) that's told roughly in the middle, and decided to adapt it. It was originally going to be for SanSan, but it ended up fitting better with Arya and Jaqen so they're just there to be supporting characters. Sorry, but I can't write without my OTP. That all being said, I did change some details of the original folk tale, cause there's like an irresistible love mark and a geis involved so it starts kinda rapey and then gets pretty weird and there's pole vaulting and invisibility cloaks, so...yeah, changed stuff, but still based on that. And...that's all. So yeah, go ahead and read. Hope you enjoy. Thank you to **GrowlingPeanut** and **tardisinthesgc** for reviewing "Need for Speed", and friendly reminder that if you want any particular chapter to be continued, you just need to let me know. Always open to requests.

 **Disclaimer:** Everything belongs to George R. R. Martin.

 **Rating:** M for some language, sexual references and content, alcohol, lecherous old men, being a rebel, all the fun stuff.

* * *

It was all Sansa's fault, as so many things often were.

Arya was the younger daughter, not so pretty or graceful as her sister, and yet still, because of Sansa, she was the one forced to marry for political gain.

When Sansa grew to womanhood, men from every corner of Westeros sought her hand, and though once as a girl she had dreamed of such attentions, she only cried when Eddard and Catelyn declared that she would wed Harrold Hardyng of the Vale. He was handsome by all accounts, but, although just a few years Sansa's elder, was already the father of two known bastards.

Their parents took that as the cause for her grief, but Arya knew the truth. Sansa, foolish and naïve Sansa, had spent the years of her blooming womanhood falling in love with the kennel master at Winterfell. He was a crude and bitter man, seventeen years her senior, and horribly scarred, but, they were in love nonetheless. And so, with Arya as their witness, they wed in secret before the weirwood tree, and when they consummated their union beneath the stars, Eddard and Catelyn could do nothing but accept her choice, and force the burden of betrothal upon their only other daughter.

His name was Walder Frey and he was approaching his ninetieth nameday just as Arya passed her eighteenth. The thought of marrying him alone made her feel sick, not to mention what would follow the wedding.

Arya's desperate appeals to her mother fell on deaf ears, and each time she expressed her disgust at the betrothal, Catelyn reminded her young daughter that she too had married out of duty, and had simply had the good fortune to fall in love with her husband. Of course, Eddard was of an age with Catelyn, and she wasn't both his ninth wife and younger than half of his grandchildren.

It was decided that a banquet would be held in honor of the betrothal so that the two could meet before preparations for the wedding began, and Arya awaited the day with dread. In a moment of anger and spite, she made the one choice she could control and found herself in the bed of Winterfell's young blacksmith. It wasn't a particularly pleasant experience, and she avoided him once the deed was done, but it would rob her betrothed of the satisfaction of taking her maidenhead, and for that, she felt a measure of spiteful glee.

When she told Sansa of what she had done, her sister had merely sighed and shaken her head in disappointment. She was scandalized by the impropriety of her sister's decision, and yet she understood. Arya was not in love with another man, but she still dreaded the marriage she was being forced into, and Sansa too had sought to control her own fate.

Walder Frey and his entourage appeared at Winterfell's gates two moons before the wedding would be held. Ned and Catelyn had agreed that was ample time for their daughter to become accustomed to her betrothed and his men and to realize the inevitability of what was to come. They held some pity for Arya, but the Freys controlled a region of Westeros that would strategically benefit the armies of the North, and so, she was offered as sacrifice.

"Gods, he's hideous," Arya said with disgust, her arms crossed over her chest as she watched him ride through the gates. He looked even older than he was, with thinning white hair and spotted skin that looked like it was carved from leather.

"And ancient," Sansa's husband commented, eyebrow raised. "Mayhap he won't even be able to get it up come the wedding night."

Sansa swatted at his arm as Arya snickered. "Hush, Sandor. Don't be so crude."

He shrugged his massive shoulders and then rolled his eyes when Arya met his gaze with amusement. Sansa sighed in exasperation.

Arya's eyes returned to the men who flooded through the gates, and she was about to turn away and fulfill her duty as his betrothed when a man at Walder's side caught her eye. He was a slender man with sharp and handsome features, framed by long, straight hair, dyed red on one side and white on the other. Quite the opposite of both the brawny giant Sansa had married and the feeble geriatric she was meant to.

Her sister followed her gaze and Arya flushed slightly when she raised her eyebrows and gave her a knowing look.

"I should go and meet them," she said, excusing herself hastily. "You," She pointed to Sansa. "Stay quiet. And you," She nodded toward her good-brother. "Keep your snide comments to yourself. I'll want to hear them later."

* * *

"Welcome to Winterfell," Eddard said courteously, and with a smile. "We hope your journey was a pleasant one and that your stay is equally so."

Walder Frey grumbled something in reply, a deep frown on his wrinkled face. By this point, he was probably tired of the boring formalities of a betrothal and Arya couldn't blame him. She was and it was only her first.

When his eyes fell on her, however, they lit up with a lascivious gleam and Arya struggled to maintain her smile as her skin crawled. If that was the way he looked at her in their marriage bed, she wasn't sure she could make it through the ordeal without retching.

"Our daughter," Catelyn said with a smile. "Arya Stark."

Arya stood for a moment in silence, and when her mother shot her a pointed look, she slowly extended a hand, the smile on her face stiff and false. "A pleasure to meet you, my lord."

"And you, sweetling," Walder purred, lowering his lips to her hand and holding them there for an unseemly long moment. "You are as young and fair as I've been told."

"Thank you, my lord," she choked out, swallowing down the bile in her throat. Never before had she met such a horrid man, and she had met more than a few unsavory ones in her time.

"This is my eldest son, Stevron." The man nodded in greeting, and Arya couldn't help but note that he was at least ten years older than her father.

"And my guard, Jaqen H'ghar."

The man to his left was the same that Arya had seen in the yard, and again she offered her hand. He bent at the waist to press his lips against it, and far from the slimy feeling of Walder's lips against her skin, his mouth was soft and smooth, and she felt a thrill run through her at his touch. When he pulled away, his blue eyes had darkened and with her heart pounding in her chest, she wondered if he had felt it too.

* * *

"How many wives have you been around for?"

Jaqen turned and was not the least bit surprised to see Walder's betrothed standing at the door to his chambers. He had felt something the moment that he first saw her, something that was powerful, and frighteningly strong.

He shrugged and continued to remove his armor. "Only six through eight." He met her eyes again. "Or nine, I suppose." Her mouth quirked into a frown at that and he shrugged again, lifting off his breastplate and setting it in the chest at the foot of his bed. "You aren't the youngest."

"Have they all borne him children?" She asked, and the sour taste in his mouth reflected the revulsion in her gaze.

"Aye. For a man his age, he still has the…vigor…of his youth."

Arya sighed at that. So much for Sandor's theory, and her own desperate hope.

"And you're content to stand by and watch?"

His expression darkened at that, and he moved his fingers to the laces of his tunic. She followed the motion with her eyes, and did not turn away.

"I swore an oath to serve as his guard, and so I do my duty as I must." He met her gaze evenly. "As we all must."

She watched as he removed his tunic and her heart skipped a beat at the sight of him half-bare before her. His chest and abdomen were toned, but not heavily muscled, and for a moment, she imagined him in the midst of battle, quick and fluid as he fought. The image in her mind was tantalizing—dangerously so.

Her feet carried her closer of their own will, and she raised a hand to rest against his chest before she spoke again. "And if we don't want to do our duty?"

His eyes were dark as he looked down at her and his hand moved to her cheek as she tilted her face toward his. "Then we must make a choice..."

* * *

"He isn't your betrothed!" Sansa protested in a whisper, crossing her arms and shivering in her thin shift.

"Neither was Sandor!" Arya retorted, giving her a pointed look. When she had gone to her sister's chambers to tell her of the strange feelings that had welled suddenly and forcefully within her, Sandor had only very grudgingly let his wife go, and Arya could tell from his vicious scowl and Sansa's swollen lips that she had most certainly arrived at an inopportune moment.

"Yes, but..." Sansa's protestation trailed off and she sighed, her teeth worrying absently at her bottom lip. It was Arya who had stood beside her as Sandor placed his cloak about her shoulders, and more than anything, she wanted her sister to be happy. With Walder, she would certainly not be that.

"What are you going to do?"

Arya frowned and shrugged her shoulders, pacing restlessly. "I don't know. I know that I've only just met him, but by the gods, I think I love him." She sounded confused and helpless, and it softened Sansa's expression.

"Have you told him?"

Arya laughed shortly at that and shook her head. She had nearly kissed him there in his chambers, but her fear and uncertainty had overcome her and she had fled instead, leaving him behind. "What could I possibly say? 'I don't know you and you work for the man I'm to marry, but I think I'm in love with you.'?"

Sansa shrugged and Arya sighed heavily, pushing her hair back from her face. She had given herself to the bastard blacksmith with nothing more than calculated control, and she was sorely unprepared for the barrage of sensations that rose in her chest at the mere sight of Walder's handsome guard.

"If you're sure," Sansa said gently. "Then go to him. I don't know what we can do, but you were there for Sandor and I, and so we'll help you in whatever way we can. And I'll deal with Mother and Father when the time comes for that."

Taking a deep breath, Arya nodded. She didn't always get along with her sister, but she had gained admiration for her when for once in her life, she had acted rashly and of her own accord, and she was grateful that Sansa was willing to help her as she had once done.

She would go to him, and tell him of her feelings, and then...only the gods could say.

* * *

"Tell me what you feel for me."

The command was blurted from within the darkness of his chambers, and Jaqen opened his eyes to see Arya standing beside his bed, her eyes wide and chest heaving.

He was silent for a moment. What he should have felt for her was nothing more than vague disinterest, the same thing he had felt for the women who had come before her. But instead, he was inexplicably drawn to her, and were she to ask anything of him, he would be helpless to resist.

Before he could answer, she had crawled into his bed, and her hands were in his hair as she kissed him, deeply and possessively. His body reacted urgently and insistently to her touch and his hands wandered to her back without thought, and then lower. She arched into him with a breathless sigh and his lips answered hers fervently, his mind blank but for thoughts of her.

When she pulled away, her pupils were wide and dark, and sorely tempting. "I love you," she murmured, and before his muddled brain could make sense of the confession, his mouth was forming a reply.

"I love you too."

She bent her head to kiss him again and whispered against his mouth. "Run away with me."

He knew that he should be ashamed of the way he felt about her, and that he was dishonoring Lord Frey in the worst way possible, but he couldn't find it in himself to protest, not with her lips on his neck and her soft body so close to his own.

"When?"

"Tomorrow night," Arya answered without hesitation. "At the banquet." A plan had formed swiftly in her mind, and she decided to run with it. "We'll slip a sleeping potion into the wine and run far from here."

He nodded in acceptance and kissed her once more. "Go then, and prepare what you must, but do not raise suspicion."

Her body ached for more of his touch, but she obeyed his command, giving him a final lingering kiss before hurrying away. That night, she did not sleep, and by morning, she had gathered what she needed, ready to begin her life anew.

* * *

"You need us to do _what_ , girl?"

At the break of dawn, Arya had hurried once again to her sister's side, and Sansa sat up in her bed, listening to Arya's plan as Sandor lie still half-asleep in her lap, blearily trying to follow their conversation.

"Slip a sleeping potion into the wine at the banquet," Arya repeated impatiently. "Once everyone's asleep, we'll run."

"Where will you go?" Sansa asked quietly, tracing absent patterns across Sandor's bare shoulder.

Arya sighed and chewed on her lip. "I don't know," she replied honestly. "Wherever we can. We'll sleep in the woods if we must and run until we reach somewhere we're not recognized."

"You know Lord Frey will send his men after you."

Arya nodded, her face set in an expression of grim determination. "Aye. So we'll hide and pray to the gods that he doesn't find us."

Much to Arya's displeasure, Catelyn forced her into a gown for the betrothal banquet, and she eyed herself with distaste in her looking glass as her mother stood beside her.

After a moment, Catelyn sighed. "I know this isn't what you want. But we need to be able to pass through the Twins if we're to defend the North."

Arya nodded absently, hardly listening to her mother's words.

Catelyn smiled slightly and continued, though there was a chastisement hidden in her words. "Your father is grateful that you haven't acted as rashly as your sister, for once." Though Ned had respected Sandor Clegane in his capacity as the keep's kennel master, he had rather a hard time accepting him as his good-son and the man who shared his daughter's bed.

Arya struggled to keep her expression neutral. Come morning, Eddard would not be nearly as grateful.

* * *

Somehow, she had managed to keep herself from Jaqen's side as the day wore on, and when he appeared at the banquet in regalia befitting his position, she couldn't help the enticing warmth that spread throughout her body at the sight of him.

Walder sat to her right, his hand roaming the length of her thigh beneath the cloth draped over the table. She did not push him away, but sat tense and uncomfortable as she endured his touch. After all, it was the last and only time that she would be forced to do so.

Her parents sat beside Walder, and Sandor and Sansa sat to her left, the former well into a bottle of wine—one that he had ensured was not touched by the mixture Sansa had delivered at her sister's request. Though she had chosen not to imbibe her usual goblet of Arbor Gold, Sansa's face was flushed, and Sandor's smirk suggested that his free hand was similarly occupied beneath the tablecloth.

Across the length of the table, Jaqen sat with his eyes upon her, and she felt her gaze drawn to his, her heart pounding in her chest. What she was doing was impulsive and far from honorable, but she could not deny her feelings.

When the food was taken away and the bards began their music, Jaqen rose to his feet and walked toward her, his charming smile distracting from the intensity of his gaze.

"Might I take your betrothed for this dance?"

Walder allowed his guard to do as he wished, but as she moved to stand, he brushed his wrinkled lips against her neck, making her shudder in revulsion. When they had disappeared into the crowd of dancers, Jaqen rubbed the lingering moisture from her throat and bent his own lips to the spot, sending a pleasant shiver down her spine.

She could hardly bear waiting for the potion to do its work before she could be with him. He awakened a fire within her that burned bright and hot, and only his touch could satiate it.

"Soon, lovely girl," he murmured as he moved fluidly in time with the music. "Be patient."

She nodded against his shoulder and breathed in the scent of him, the sharp tang of cinnamon and clove, as exotic as the lilt to his voice.

It was after several hours, when the first cask of wine had been emptied and a second started into that the sleeping potion began to take effect. Thankfully, the gods had answered her prayers, and everyone had drank the mixture in some dosage. Those guests who didn't wander blearily back to their chambers fell snoring to the tabletop.

Sansa stood up swiftly as the last pair of eyes closed, and she moved to her sister's side. "Go, now, while there's time. I don't know how long it will be before they wake."

Jaqen nodded and Arya pulled Sansa into a quick embrace before retreating back to his side and taking his hand. Her sister smiled though there were tears in her eyes, and she leaned into Sandor as he made his way drunkenly to her side.

"May the gods be with you."

"And with you," Jaqen echoed.

They made their way to their chambers for their meager belongings and then to the gates. Arya cast only a brief glance over her shoulder before bracing herself and following Jaqen out of the keep, leaving her old life behind.

* * *

The sun had risen high in the sky by the time they first stopped, hidden in the depths of the Wolfswood beyond Winterfell. By now, there were surely men readying themselves for pursuit, and Arya couldn't help but be amused by the thought of Walder's face, purple with rage when he realized that he had been made the fool.

"We should go East," Jaqen said as he chewed thoughtfully on a piece of bread. He was leaned with his back against a tree, and Arya sat comfortably in his lap, her back against his chest.

"Cross the sea, perhaps, over to Essos."

"I don't care where we go," Arya replied honestly. "So long as we're together."

She turned to capture his lips and he responded in kind, one hand curling about her neck as she straddled his spread legs. When his mouth descended on her throat she let out a soft sigh, and an exquisite warmth pooled between her thighs at the feel of him against her.

Though she was not a maiden, she had certainly never felt this way, and she reveled in the desire that muddled her mind. His hands were cool against her flushed skin and she arched into his touch, desperate for more.

After a moment, he pulled away suddenly, and there was something in his eyes that she could not read as he moved to his feet.

"We should go," he said, clearing his throat. "While there's still light."

Confused and hurt, Arya nodded slowly in agreement, and it was only as he took her hand as they continued on that her heart stopped its nervous twisting.

As night began to fall, a thatched roof rose to view, and they stood for a moment looking at it from between the trees.

"Do you think it's safe?" Arya asked hesitantly.

Jaqen frowned. "I don't know."

He was sure that they were already being pursued, and his gut felt sour with guilt at the realization of what he had done. Though he loved the woman beside him and wanted nothing more than to be hers in every way, his stubborn loyalty to the Freys kept him from acting on his desires.

Slowly, they approached the door of the little home, and when they finally knocked, an old woman appeared to meet them.

Her surprise and recognition was immediate as she looked at Arya, and her voice dropped to a whisper as she hurriedly waved them in. "Lady Arya, come in. Quickly."

They did as they were bid, and it wasn't until the door had been shut and secured behind them that the woman spoke again.

"A courier's already come to every man, woman, and child in the North," she said gravely. "It tells of your abduction from your betrothed, the Lord Walder Frey." She eyed the young couple for a moment and then continued. "I didn't believe it when I read it and can certainly now see the truth of it."

Arya and Jaqen exchanged a glance and his arm moved possessively about her waist. Loyal or not, he would not allow her to become the next wife of Walder Frey. He had witnessed the short lives of the three who had come before her, and would not let her succumb to the same fate.

"I have a stable out back," the old woman said. "And a pot of stew over the fire. Stay here for the night, please."

As they accepted graciously, she smiled and handed them each a bowl of steaming broth. "I remember what it was like to be young and in love." Her lips curved into a scowl and her hands traveled to her hips. "And I never held much fondness for that Lord Frey."

When they thanked her for her hospitality, she allowed them to retire to the small stable at the back and they settled in the straw, their eyes on the stars that were visible through the roof.

"I love you, Jaqen," Arya murmured, and though he would not give her what she wanted, he responded without hesitation.

"I love you too."

And gods forgive them, they truly did.

* * *

They were awakened at dawn by the sound of hoofbeats, and they gathered their things quickly as the old woman stalled the men at her door. There were nearly a dozen in total, and Arya could hear Walder and her father among them.

"We're looking for Lady Arya Stark," Ned said patiently, and Walder interrupted with a hateful sneer. "And a Lorathi man called Jaqen H'ghar. A traitor and a thief."

"They certainly aren't here," the old woman replied, and Arya was almost convinced by the sincerity in her tone. "I would know the lady Arya if I saw her, even if my eyes aren't what they used to be."

Before she could hear the rest, Jaqen was urging her back into the forest, and they ran for several miles before finally slowing their pace. Arya struggled to catch her breath and Jaqen frowned as he settled into a brisk walk.

"I didn't think they would be so close," he confessed, his brow furrowed with worry. "We may have more trouble reaching the Narrow Sea than we anticipated."

Arya nodded wearily and pulled him to a stop, taking his face in her hands and kissing him soundly. She was already tired of being forced to run and hide, and she simply wanted to be with him.

When she pulled away, his expression had softened and he ran a thumb over her cheek gently. "We'll be free someday, my lovely girl," he promised. "But until then, this is to be our life together."

* * *

In the first small town they reached, they purchased two horses, for Jaqen had decided that riding their own from Winterfell would make them far easier to find. With their pace dramatically quickened, they rode south, from Torrhen's Square to Moat Cailin.

White Harbor would grant them passage across the Narrow Sea, but almost every man, woman, and child there would know Arya, and recognize her by sight. Instead, they would go south through the Twins, and east from there to King's Landing.

Arya worried about being seen in the capital city, but Jaqen assured her that with so many people in its streets, no one would cast them a second glance, nor would the people so far south know her face.

They spent many of their nights in the woods, when they weren't hidden and harbored by the local farmers. There was little love for the Freys amongst the locals, even as they drew closer to the Twins, and so they remained safe as they continued, just ahead of the men who pursued them.

Each night, Arya hoped that Jaqen would let his guard down and simply love her. He held and kissed her freely, but when she tried to initiate more, he would pull away, intent on maintaining her purity. She told him shyly that she was not a maiden, but still he would not give in. Once Walder abandoned the search in favor of another young girl to bear his children, Jaqen's guilt would fade, and then, he would feel free to love her as he wished.

The stalwart towers that marked the Twins rose above the horizon to meet them nearly a moon into their journey, and they slowed, hesitant to continue. They had been riding cautiously along the road for several days now, hoods drawn low to conceal their features, and Arya stiffened when they heard a rider approaching from behind.

Jaqen readied the sword at his hip lest they need to flee, but it was an old man in the robes of a brother from the Quiet Isle who met them, his sturdy draft horse pulling a wagon along behind it.

"Good morrow," he called out in greeting. "What brings you to the South?"

Arya looked nervously to the man at her side, and he hesitated for a moment before replying. "We're going to King's Landing, on a pilgrimage to the Great Sept of Baelor."

The priest raised his eyebrows, and there was a slight twinkle to his friendly eyes that made Arya think he knew much more of them than he let on.

"A noble journey, that," he said musingly. "Mayhap our paths were meant to cross." He eyed them for a long moment, and Jaqen's nervous look suggested that his mind had followed the same path as Arya's. When neither of them spoke, he continued. "Those horses of yours look as though they could use a bit of rest. What say you to leaving them here and riding with me through the Freys' lands? My cart has enough room for the two of you."

Their suspicions were confirmed when the priest withdrew several blankets from the boxes in his wagon for them to cover themselves with, and when they rode up toward the guards at the bridge, he flashed them a wink and lifted a finger to his lips.

They lie silently, barely daring to breathe, and Jaqen's hand found Arya's in the darkness, twining their fingers together. In only a few more moons they would be to King's Landing, and from there, across the Narrow Sea, and far from Walder Frey.

"Halt," one of the guards commanded, and the brother obediently drew his horse to a stop. "Have you seen the fugitive Jaqen H'ghar or the Lady Arya Stark?"

"Fugitive?" The priest asked innocently. "Most certainly not. I would have noticed a young lady being taken against her will had I passed them on my way."

There was a brief silence as the guards exchanged a glance, and then he was waved on brusquely. "Very well then. Move along. If you see or hear anything, send word to Lord Frey. The man responsible for the lady's rescue has been promised a hefty sum of gold."

They hesitated for a moment to see if the priest would change his tale at the mention of a reward, but he merely smiled at them and offered a parting wave as he nudged his horse forward again. When they were far enough for the towers to fade from view, he tapped the edge of the cart and Arya threw off the blanket, eagerly filling her lungs with the cool autumn air.

Though he offered to take them all the way to King's Landing they refused any further help, and as they turned to go, Arya hesitated, looking back to the man once more.

"Why did you help us?" She asked quietly.

He smiled softly. "I seek only to follow the will of the Seven, and sometimes they guide us in ways that we do not understand. If you have made it this far without being captured, then surely they are watching over the two of you."

With a nod, Arya thanked him again, and she returned to where Jaqen waited for her, her heart light as she sent a short prayer of thanks to the gods. Perhaps they would escape after all, if it was their will.

* * *

In an attempt at caution, they steered off of the Kingsroad after securing another horse for their journey and another two moons passed as they continued on their journey.

Though Arya did not regret her decision, she had begun to miss her home, and as she lie awake at night with Jaqen's arms around her, she thought of her family, and of the keep she knew so well. By now, Sansa's condition would be evident, she was sure. She knew her sister well enough to sense the changes when they had come, and she wondered absently how long it had taken Sandor to realize that he was going to be a father. She hoped someday she could return home to meet their child, if ever her parents forgave her.

With each day that passed, Jaqen's touches grew more insistent, but still he held himself back, and she could see guilt and desire warring in his gaze when he looked at her. She supposed she understood his loyalty, but still she longed for him, desperately and urgently.

On the outskirts of Maidenpool, they had stopped to rest and bathe, and with a smirk she had splashed water up the length of her thighs. "Even this water is more adventurous than you," she teased, and he had regarded her with a look of such absolute want that she thought he would finally succumb. In the end, he still refused, ever the gentleman, and she pushed down the disappointment that rose in her chest.

From Maidenpool it was only a few days ride to King's Landing, and they spent the night in an inn within the city's walls before rising the next morning and securing their passage across the Narrow Sea.

They left the harbor after the sun had set, and that night, Arya dreamed of their future. She imagined a modest home, and a child with dark hair and blue eyes. She imagined a life in which they could live as they saw fit, and would never again have to watch their backs for fear of being caught. It was everything that she had never realized she wanted, and above all, it was a life of freedom.

* * *

When Arya woke, it was to the sun that filtered in from the small window of their cabin. She stretched the tightness from her limbs and Jaqen reacted instinctively to the movement, his arm tightening its hold on her waist as she pressed against him.

Carefully, she escaped from his grip and moved to the window, looking out over the sea. She had never seen it before, and it took her breath away. The waves rocked the boat gently and their caps rolled with white foam, glittering in the light of the sun. Distant and still invisible beyond the horizon lay the lands of Essos.

She heard his soft footsteps behind her before his arms encircled her waist, and she spoke in a whisper that was full of awe. "It's so beautiful."

Jaqen nodded in agreement, but she could feel his gaze on her face, and not on the waves that surrounded them. Her skin shone in the glimmering sunlight, and his heart tightened in his chest. Far away, in the North, Walder Frey departed Winterfell at last, and it was when they reached the shores of Lorath that they heard news of what would be his final betrothal. Somehow, he knew that he was free to be with her at last, and he saw the realization mirrored in her eyes when she turned to face him.

She met his gaze for a long moment, hesitation evident across her features, but he had always known he would do anything that she asked of him, and it was there, in their cabin on the Narrow Sea, that she asked at last.

"Make love to me, Jaqen."

His fingers freed the laces of her shift with ease, and when it fell to pool at her feet, he stopped and admired her beauty. Perhaps she wasn't the type of woman bards wrote songs about, but to him, she was everything. Her fierce determination, her rebellious nature, her cunning mind; they were all a part of the woman he had fallen for without hesitation or resistance, and by the gods, he was the man lucky enough to have her.

He fell to his knees to worship her, drowning in her scent, and the exquisite taste of her. Her every sigh spurred him on, and she trembled at the touch of his hands and lips. She had never imagined she could feel such bliss, and she was merciless against the storm of desire that burned in his eyes.

When she cried his name and reached the height of her passion, he lifted her and set her on their bed, his lips marking her throat with wild and unrestrained possession. Her body felt as though it were on fire, and every brush of his fingers on her skin stoked the flames, higher and higher until she felt as though she would burn away beneath his touch.

She begged him to make her whole, her voice a sob of pleasure, torn from her throat as he obeyed her command. He fit within her as though they had been sculpted by the Seven with the other in mind, and Arya moaned her desperate supplication to them as his hips moved against hers.

"Oh, gods...Mother have mercy..."

With the sea below them and the sky above, they consummated their love at last. And when they reached the shores of Lorath, they were wed in the eyes of men. It was a marriage not of duty, nor of honor, but one of love.


End file.
